The Drinker You Smoke, The Player You Ed
by TrailerFilth
Summary: It's the summer after graduation, and the kids are riding high. The day after his parents leave on their vacations, Kevin decides to throw a swank-ass party. However, mom and dad have stolen all his booze! Rather than face the humiliation of throwing a BYOB party, he recruits the Eds to help him. Will they find quality hooch before 6:30 PM? Probably not!
1. Chapter 1

Another summer morning, free and easy! A day for hoops, for outdoor adventures, for a cruise up the highway with Nazz.

But, today was different.

Kevin slid to the window, and peeked into the driveway, to find his mother's Mercury wagon gone.

Not a moment to spare.

Clad in nothing but skivvies, he slid down the stair-railing, sliding across the floor to the garage. Dad's Mustang was gone too, leaving only a dried patch of oil where the old chief had spilled the drip pan. The garage was empty, besides his Suzuki Samurai and the perennial chopper bike of his youth.

Mom and Dad's cars were gone. They had gone on there separate vacations, like Doctor Linkletter had advised, leaving Kev all alone for two whole months of summer bliss, starting today. He was fancy-free, his only responsibilities to keep the dishes running and the house clean.

He could do anything he wanted to.

"Aw, yeah…"

Kev's mind raced, dashing upstairs for his cell-phone. Swiping the screen, he punched in the number for Jimmy. He was so ecstatic, he didn't mind calling the little dweeb first. After all, the kid had some redeeming features. For one, if he got even a little bit of sauce in him, he'd jump up on the coffee-table and go all John Travolta, regardless of the song.

He was a great attraction.

At last, Jimmy picked up. With a yawn, he answered.

"H...hello?"

"Hey, uh, Jimmy," Kev was fit to burst with excitement, but he held it in. His father always said, never let them see you sweat. "What's up?"

"Oh, hello, Kevin..!" The little powderpuff rasped. He was still waking up, but sounded pleasant at the very least. "How was graduation?"

"Yeah, it was fine.. Look, uh, I'm havin' this party later. You wanna come?"

"A party?... I'd be delighted! When will it-" 

"Great, I'll see ya later." And, with that, Jimmy was gone. Kev went about calling everybody else, informing them that, sooner or later, the shindig would be on. Eventually, he grew tired of the calls, and sent out one, big text message to everyone on his contacts- save, of course, his mother, father and grandmother

 **PARTY AT MY PLACE 6:30 2NIGHT**

At long last, the only ones uninformed were the Eds. At one point, Kevin would have scoffed at the idea of inviting them, but years had passed, and they had grown on him- at the very least, a little. So, he dialed Eddy's number, and waited.

The line rang and rang and rang; at last, Eddy picked up, sounding as if he'd simply rolled out of bed.

"Yeah…?"

"Hey, it's me."

"...Me who?"

"Kevin, you dork!" He already regretted his decision, and began to pace the house. "Look, I got this party tonight. You wanna grab your friends and come over?"

"I dunno, Kev, we got a lot of stuff to do.. Lawns to mow, gutters to clean, that sort'a thing. Really, Kev, I'd love to chat, but I'm an independent businessman, and time is money. So, if I'm wasting-"

Kevin's patience was growing thin. "Look, dude, if you don't wanna come, you don't have to. I'm just tryin' to be nice here. Everybody's gonna be here."

A slight pause. Eddy was intrigued.

"Yeah, and who's everybody?"

"Whadd'ya mean, every-... Okay, look. Everybody in the Cul-de-Sac, at least. We got some kids from school comin' over, maybe even some guys from Lemon Brook."

Eddy paused, considering. The line hissed with silence. "... Any chicks?"

Kevin let out a cackle, grinning. "Yeah, man, no doubt! Sent the invite to everybody on my contacts list. It's gonna be _so_ choice."

"Waaahahahahahaaa! Kev, what would I do without ya? Please, tell me you got… y'know, party favors?"

"You know it, dude, armory's fully stocked. We got gin, whiskey, cheap beer, all sorts 'a stuff. It's gonna be a hell of a night."

"Then, I'll see you there! I'll try and scare Ed and Double D up, and we'll be over!"

As if he were in the room, Kev nodded. "Alright! Party starts at six. Catch you later, man."

"Adios."

 _Click._

Kevin cranked the stereo- Ice Cube at eight in the morning- badass by anybody's standards. He went to the kitchen, poured some Chunky Puffs, and began to ponder his life to the tune of 'Steady Mobbin''.

He may have misjudged the Eds. Yes, they'd been a thorn in his side for a few summers in his youth, but the one he'd had the most trouble with had always been Eddy. And, even then, his Freudian excuses had been laid bare in the rusty confines of Mondo-A-Go-Go during their thirteenth summer. And, since then, he'd just sort of tolerated them. But, the prospect of hanging out with them didn't sound too bad- at least, for this grand night.

"You know what? I think it's that time of day."

He sat up, facing the liquor cabinet, feeling like a cowboy. He had the liberty to take a belt of scotch in the morning, why not? His dad did it, now it was his turn. A family tradition, the circle continuing oncemore.

But, to his surprise, the cabinet was empty.

"Aw, no way…"

He rushed to the fridge, to find no beer.

"No _way_. No!"

He ran to his room, to find the six-pack under his bed, but it was gone too.

"This can't be happening..! Not tonight!"

One final resort. The shed, there had to be some in the shed. Down the stairs in a flash, across the living room, sliding out the back door and breaking into a mad dash across the yard. Shovel-head threw open the door, and skidded inside.

His hands found the loose floorboard, and he pulled it up, to find nothing. His little hidey-hole, home to his most prized possessions- a Ty Cobb trading card in three ziplocs, two hundred dollars in emergency money, and a box of vintage hotrod 'zines- yielded no booze.

A post-it note, left on the lid of the box, spelt out his parents' wishes in bold, block letters.

 **SORRY, CHAMP…**

 **BUT NO PARTIES WHILE WE'RE GONE!**

 **-MOM AND DAD**

" _Damn_ it!"

Kevin stomped back into his house, slamming the screen with a huff. His brow furrowed, his body tensed He had to think of something, and quick. This party was too big to fail. He needed more booze, and quick.

So, he dialed the only person he knew, reprehensible enough to get it for him.

Eddy was in the shower by now, when he heard the phone ring.

"...But, when I see you hangin' around with anyooo- wait, hold it…"

Flying out in a towel, he flopped on the bed, bouncing into the wall face-first. But, he made it to the phone! Picking the plaster out of his teeth, he pawed at the nightstand for his cell, and opened it.

"...Hello…?... Oh, uh, hey Kev. What's up now?"

"You remember what I said about the party?"

Disregarding the other's moody tone, Eddy beamed. "Yeah! You oughta see my outfit. Panama hat with a blue feather. Total zoot-soot! High-school rings and everything! I'm gonna have to beat 'em off with a stick."

"Dude, we got a problem."

Eddy's smile disappeared as his inner workings began to spin. ".. What, too flashy? Aw, c'mon, shovel-chin, it's hip!"

"That ain't what I meant… Look, I don't know how, but my parents cleaned me out last night.. Even the secret stuff I thought they didn't know about. "

Eddy knew exactly what he was angling at.

"And?"

"And, I got a lotta stuff to do today. So, I was wonderin' if you and your two buddies could-"

"You want us to go pick up some "gardening supplies" for you?"

A short pause.

"What are you talking abo-"

Eddy couldn't believe this guy. "Y'know, 'weedkiller'?"

"I'm throwin' a rager, not mowing my lawn."

Right over his head! Could you believe the guy?

"Do you want us to buy you beer or not?!" Eddy suppressed a scream, huffing a bit. "Geez, right over your head."

"...Don't start with me, man, or I'll come over there and pound you into the dirt like a tentpole."

Eddy's mood simmered slightly "A-...alright, fine, I'm sorry. What's in it for us, anyway?"

""Just be glad you're gettin' in," he rebuked, "Don't think I don't remember what you pulled at my last party."

Eddy, reminiscing, snickered. "What, when I cranked Song of Innocence? C'mon, Kev, that album rocked! Y'know, Holy Thursday, and all that jazz!"

"Uhhh, no. When you and your dorko buddy ralphed all over my parents' bed."

"...I don't remember that."

"Yeah, I bet you don't. I guarantee you, you do me this kindness, I'll owe you big time."

Owed something by Kevin- that would be something.

Truth be told, Eddy never stole from the liquor store. The one time he tried was at age eight, with much prodding from his brother, and he could still feel the sting of the spanking his dad gave him, in full view of the patrons of Big Jim's Spirits. But, the payoff was huge. What would Kevin "owe" him? What if he forgot about it? But, what if such agreements had interest rates?

Kevin's indignant voice bowled him over.

"Hello?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Sheesh!"

"Well, what's your answer?"

"Alright, we'll do it, but you better not welch on the deal."

Kevin snorted. "Same goes to you. Good luck, I guess."

"Adios!"

 _Dial tone._

And, so it began. Eddy, now electrified at the idea of making a buck, shot off texts to the guys.

 **VAN. 10 MINS. DONT BE LATE**

The van in question, was a purple GMC, and what a van it was. Her sides were adorned with orange flames, now fading to a putrid yellow in some spots due to age. But, the glossy purple still shown bright when buffed. The interior was nothing to sneeze at either, with shag all-around, a sizeable waterbed, and a sound system that would make even the most jaded enthusiast blush. The coup de grace was the bubble-window, a custom teardrop crafted by some long-ago artist of the genre. Maybe even Les Dunham himself!

From the beginning, man knew that the key to a woman's affection was the shaping of glass cysts on the side of a fluorescent-colored Vandura. While murals were encouraged, a bubble window was a prerequisite., and any van without one could be sent to the scrapper in shame. Many had tried and failed, but this example was truly a showcase of the era, and Eddy was its proud owner. Sure, he had spent the entirety of Junior Year working up enough on a paper-route to buy a new engine, transmission and tires, but, in the end, it was all worth it. They had christened the van 'Mission Control' with a bit of string and a bottle of flat Mexican coke. The rest had been history.

But, sadly, his mother and father hadn't seen eye-to-eye, and Eddy had to park it in the Lane behind his house. He supposed its beauty was lost on his parents, both Garden State transplants whose idea of 'fine art' was a lame matinee movie about overcoming shyness. He figured his father understood, but was too tired of arguing to say anything. That made him just as bad.

By the time he arrived, Ed and Double D were already sitting inside, the rear doors wide open. Monobrow sat on the bumper, looking at his feet, while sockhead busied himself reading a book on tablet. When he drew near, they both looked up to greet him.

Ed beamed. "Oh, hi, Eddy! .. What's up?"

Double D was looking slightly worried. "..Is everything alright, Eddy? The last time we we assembled so hastily, it was to bury that eagle you struck on the freeway." His brow furrowed. "..An act I _still_ do not approve of, I might add."

Eddy stepped in and fell onto the waterbed, which bucked and swayed beneath him. Sporting a grin, he put on the charm. He had to sell it to them. "Alright, so… y'heard about the big party at Kev's, right?"

A loose nod from Ed, a small, "Yes, of course," from Double D.

"Well, he hit a bit of a snag…. But, we're gonna fix it for him, and then he'll _owe_ us!"

Double D's expression changed from worry to doubt. "...What kind of snag?"

"His parents took all the booze with'em when they left for… Majora, or wherever."

"Majorca, Eddy. And, I for one, see no issue with a little imposed prohibition! Alcohol always sours the experience, that's what I always say. I, for one, have never drank in my life!"

Eddy eyed him for a moment, grinning wide. "Well, you'll get a chance tonight, 'cause we're gonna get 'em some sauce."

Eddward looked as if he'd stubbed his toe. "Eddy, it's illegal for us to purchase alcoholic beverages!"

"Not if we got IDs it ain't."

The expression only intensified. "F-forging documents?! That is highly illegal!"

"Yeah, so's not havin' car insurance, but I ain't payin' a hundred bucks a month."

Double D was not amused. "...Very well, I'll ignore that. But, how would you go about accomplishing such a feat? I'll admit, my mimeograph is quite versatile, but I simply can't download a template off the internet! I fear the Federal Bureau of Investigation is still surveying my search history, after my… ill-fated science project."

Sockhead had thought that a scale nuclear reactor would win him first prize. It never melted down, and probably would have stolen the show, had his searches not been mistaken for domestic terrorism. Search warrants were issued, parents cried, court dates were attended, community service was assigned. All charges were dropped, but it left Edd humiliated. Now, there wasn't a kid in the county that hadn't heard of the incident, and he had resolved to moving out of state whenever his busy schedule permitted it.

"Relax, Double D, I know a guy downtown who makes 'em on the side. We're _golden_." He kicked off his shoes and reclined with a content sigh, while Ed began to laugh wildly.

"I've never been owed before, Eddy!"

Something clicked in Double D's brain, and further opposition was offered.

"One more thing, Eddy… Kevin has promised he will "owe" you… What does that entail? And it's not as if the agreement's a paper document. There is nothing stopping him from pretending he never made it!

"Double D, either we make this run, or we're gonna be spending tonight in Ed's basement, watchin'-"

"Revenge of The Powerglide Slushboxes From Saturn!" offered Ed.

"-...Yeah, that... So, whadd'ya say?"

Double D huffed indignantly. "Eddy, I don't even like parties! Social functions can be so noisy, and.. And crowded, and… covered with malicious germs.."

"C'mon, Double D, everyone's gonna be there! I checked the group chat, and it sounds like chicks from Lemon Brook'll be over!"

Edd, unimpressed, simply opened his book oncemore. "I'd much rather spend a wholesome evening, watching Victory at Sea with my best friends, than drink illegal alcohol and contract herpes from this county's crowd of ill repute. So, what do YOU say?"

Eddy, sitting up, clambered into the passenger seat.

"I say, we're doin' this."

Double D snorted. "Alright, fine. But, if we're pulled over with alcohol on our persons, then refer to me as Eddward The Hitch-hiker."

"Just chill out, okay? Nothin's gonna happen, we'll be fine!" Eddy swung an arm around Double D, pulling him over. "It's just a drive down to Burger Trench, and then we hit Big Jim's Liquor! Easy as pie!.. What do you think, Ed?"

"I don't think, Eddy!"

"...Right…" With the turn of a key, the van began to crank, firing up and blowing blue smoke from the exhaust for just a few moments.

Dropping her into drive, Eddy sent the van rattling down the lane. Double D, startled, shrunk back to his own seat and buckled up. They careened around the corner, scattering the contents of a garbage can and merged onto the street blindly.

"Eddy," Double D fretted, "is there any reason why your driving has to be so reprehensible?"

"Not really. Just wanna get there before the lunch rush!.. This guy's got a day-job, so you wanna catch 'im before it gets busy."

"Well, surely," he insisted, "You could have at least done a head-check before entering traffic! Why, imagine if we hit somebody!"

"So?"

Double D just sighed and looked out the window.

Eddy felt rubbed the wrong way. "Double D, when're ya gonna let me make my own mistakes?"

"Only when you stop including us in them, Eddy!"

They were at a stoplight now, and Eddy looked over to glare at Double D. To his surprise, he was smirking and chuckling.

"...What's so funny?"


	2. Chapter 2

The trio had gotten on Figueroa, and turned left onto Main. Peach Creek was a little town, and Main Street ran only for about three miles, before turning back into Highway 502 and heading out into the country. Getting up to speed, the van began to shudder, and at fifty miles an hour, Ed skittered across the carpeted floor like a runaway jackhammer.

"Make it stop, Eddy!" The lump tried to grab the bed to stable himself, but only succeeded in pulling the covers off.

Eddy gave Double D a dirty look. "I thought you fixed this thing, sockhead."

Double D clutched his hands in his lap, trying to look civil. "Eddy, don't you recall purchasing used tires, despite the protest of both your father and I?"

"Yeah, what about 'em?" Eddy pulled out to pass, blowing by the slower traffic.. In a double yellow zone.

"It seems that they're in need of balancing!... though, there's very little tread left to balance."

"Then why didn't ya balance 'em before ya put 'em on?"

"Eddy, come now. There was only so much I could do with the provisions provided! If you'd just save the money to take the van to a tire shop, I'm sure they would offer you a reasonable deal."

The driver always feels he must defend his car's honor. Eddy was no different.

"I ain't payin' no shop to touch my van! Only I work on her!"

"Eddy, may I remind you that _Rolf_ and I swapped in the new drivetrain?"

Eddy gritted his teeth. "Yeah, but… I'm talkin' about the important stuff?"

Edd grinned smugly at his handiwork. "Isn't an engine and transmission "important?""

"Double D, if this is about the money owed, I promise I'll- Hey, look, we're here!"

Now in what small towns consider 'downtown', they pulled into the parking lot of a burger joint. Instead of hitting the drive-in, Eddy swung her into a parking spot near the dumpster. He drew dangerously near to an old Coupe Deville on the passenger side, but didn't hit… They'd have a tough time getting back in, though. By his standards, good enough!

Eddy flung open his door and hopped out. "Okay, boys, I'll be right back. You don't get in trouble, okay? And don't eat my speakers, Lumpy."

Ed, who'd been eyeing the subwoofer, blushed and looked away. Edd, however, was not amused.

"Eddy, this is hardly the time to stop for lunch."

"Lunch? Ha! We ain't gettin' lunch. My guy works here!"

Double D blinked. "What kind of master forger works at Burger Trench? Surely can find better."

"Not for five bucks!" Eddy snickered, "I'm totally screwin' him over! He owes me bad, after this stint we did workin' at the orchards last summer.. And, lucky for us, he's a pro at makin' driver's licenses. A real artichoke!"

Edd blinked. "Artisan, Eddy."

Ed, who was busy bouncing on the waterbed, paused briefly, confused. "...Who is Anne?"

Eddy ran his fingers through his hair, dusted himself off and put on his poker face. "Don't worry, Double D, he's the best. In a few minutes, we'll be walkin' outta here two years older, with the ID to prove it!"

The two watched as their short companion strolled over to the service entrance. He glanced side-to side, he found no-one around, and knocked.

After a few moments, the door cracked. A lone eye surveyed the parking lot.

A cracking, teenage voice drifted out. "...Who's there?"

"It's Eddy, open up."

"...I'm sorry, sir, but customers aren't allowed to use-"

Eddy glowered at him and put his hands on his hips. "Come on! Y'know, from the orchard last summer?"

The voice paused suddenly, as if recollecting; the door squeaked open a bit more, the creature behind observing Eddy. "..Ohhh, yeah! Didn't you fake heatstroke and go home early?"

Eddy scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. He slouched, and turned to find Double D and Ed snickering beside the van.

"Just open the door already, sheesh!"

The door creaked open, revealing a fat, pimply white teen in his dorky Burger Trench uniform- blue visor hat, blue shirt, brown khaki shorts. Bewildered by the van, he scratched his head of brown hair, then looked back to Eddy. His nametag read 'SCOOT' in cheap Comic Sans.

His face betrayed no emotion, just indifference and a lack of sleep- Both results of his career in retail.

Scoot jerked his thumb at the two beside the van. "..Who're those guys?"

Eddy smiled, trying to gain favor. "Uh.. They're just my pals, Scoot! This is Ed.."

A dorky wave. "Hullo!"

"...And Double D!"

Double D stepped forward and a hand extended to shake. "Greetings, erm… Scoot!" He smiled warmly, attempting to be polite. "It certainly is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Scoot shook his hand limply and let his arms dangle at his sides. "It's, uh… Scott, actually. They messed up my nametag, and.. Never got me a replacement."

Double D's smile became strained. "Yes, I...see. How unfortunate."

Eddy began to shove him back toward the van, laughing. "Oh, good old Double D! What a character, let's give it up!" When they were safely away from Scoot, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "What the hell are you doin?"

"I'm only answering his question, Eddy, he asked for my name!"

"Just let me conduct business, will ya?"

Edd rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well, but if your man Scott there decides he's uncomfortable with the concept of constancy, then don't complain to me!"

Eddy left the indignant Double D to mosey back to Scoot, who waited patiently.

"So," he squeaked, "What can I do for you?"

A police car cruised by on the main drag, and Eddy flinched slightly, tipping his nonexistent hat to them. By the time Scoot turned to look, they were already gone.

Eddy leaned in to whisper to him. He could smell the grease from the fryers. "..You still make those IDs, right?"

"Yeah, but minimum wage went up, so I haven't done one in a while.. You buyin'?"

Eddy produced his wallet, flashing a few bills. "...Maybe I am.. I need booze for a party tonight."

Scoot stared vacantly at the money, sneezed, then looked blankly to Eddy.

"This is five bucks."

Eddy frowned and folded his arms. "...So what?"

"It costs me twenty to get the materials..."

Grumbling, Eddy produced his wallet and began to fork out more dough. "Fine, I'll give you twenty-five."

Scoot, eyes widening slightly at the money, began to stuff it back in Eddy's wallet. Trying to keep eye contact at the same time, cash and bills spilled all over the payment.

Eddy was furious. "What are you tryin' to do, attract hobos?!"

"I gotta work all day today; I ain't got time to make 'em.."

Scoot was grabbed by his colar, as Eddy hopped on his stomach and began to shake him. "You backstabbin' son of a bitch! After all I did for you, you're gonna hang us out to dry like this?!"

The fast-food worker was still quite a bit larger than Eddy, and simply plucked him off, setting him gently on the ground. "Eddy, you gave me a ride home once and I bought you lunch. I think I've settled my debts."

Eddy huffed indignantly. "Whatever, thanks for nothin'... You ain't nothin' without me, Scoot!"

Scoot's deadpan expression hardly changed. "I'm my own man, Eddy."

A voice like thunder threw the service door off its hinges, and Scoot whirled around, flinching. His face went from sub-zero zen to panic attack in about half a second at the sound of his angry boss.

"UNDERWOOD! HOW LONG'S IT TAKE TO SMOKE A CIGARETTE? GET BACK TO WORK!"

"C-coming, Mr. Antonucci!" And, thus, he hurried off, leaving Eddy and company dejected and hopeless.

Ten minutes later, they were back in the van, cruising out of town to the east. They were heading into a basin of sunflower fields and farms, with the foothills of the mountains beyond. Ed had his head stuck out the passenger window, tongue flapping in the breeze while Double D and Eddy discussed the next course of action.

"Now that your "guy" is out of the question," Double D announced amiably , "what say we return home, and procure something legal to drink? I know of some nice herbal tea, and some crackerjack flavors of Crystal Light, sure to-"

"Crystal Light?!" Eddy cocked back his head and laughed. The van swerved slightly, and Ed's tongue smacked into a passing telephone pole. "God, you're so lame! And who said anything about goin' home? I know a place we can find all the booze we need."

Eddward frowned, and shook his head. "I refuse."

Eddy's smile was gone in an instant, replaced with confusion. "..What?"

"I know what you're suggesting, and I won't participate."

"Oh, fine, be a stick-in-the-mud. All I need is Lumpy, and we'll clean the place out!"

Ed, now hopping on the waterbed, concurred. "Cleanliness is next to gaudiness, Eddy!"

"Yeah, whatever.. We're comin' up on it now, so play it cool and follow my lead."

"It" was a small, ramshackle filling station along the highway. Under a full blue sky, against the backdrop of the mountains, lay 'Emmet's Seed and Feed', a low, boxy wooden shape among the farmer's fields. Two pumps out front, with exorbitant prices, a small case labeled 'VHS RENTALS' on the porch, and a short-sighted, elderly clerk- the titular Emmet.

Eddy had learned of Emmet Zeats from his older brother. Apparently, even in Bro's day, the white-haired old fellow hadn't been too quick. But, now, he had reflexes of a particularly speedy sloth, and the sight of a Mexican cave-fish. When Eddy had gotten drunk in high school, he'd always come to Emmet's for a chaser. He'd only stopped after a charge of shoplifting- when a deputy sheriff walked in the store while he was doing his thing, literally bumping into him during the escape.

The van chattered across the gravel lot, and parked at the pumps. A burly man in a trucker's cap began to wash the windshield, as Eddy got out and walked to the door. A moment later, the rear doors swung forth, and Ed rolled out onto the ground, having shifted during the ride.

Eddy turned back to face Double D. "...You comin', sockhead?"

Double D crossed his arms and harrumphed contemptuously', turning away.

Eddy furrowed his brow, and motioned for Ed to come along.

They pushed open the door to find the store as it had always been- dusty, creaky, and full of odd canned goods. Hank Williams Senior crooned from a tinny speaker mounted somewhere above their heads, while Emmet himself sat behind the counter, staring vacantly outward with a slight smile.

It was he door-chime that alerted him, and he waved to nobody in particular. "Come on in! Door's open!... ain't it?"

Ed was pleased to meet such a jovial fellow. He opened his mouth for a greeting, before being slapped by Eddy.

"Keep it down," he whispered." Ed nodded in agreement, as he suddenly understood the gravity of the situation,

The two began to comb the isles, while Emmet rambled on.

"Nice weather, eh? Y'know, I was just hearin', it's gonna rain t'night... Did'ja hear 'bout Palmer's thresher? Tweekers stole the wire right outta her!... If I could get my hands on 'em, I'd strangle 'em!..."

Eddy went along the refrigerated aisle, blindly grabbing while checking for Emmet. Ed, meanwhile, crashed through the store, stuffing all he could into his coat. All the while, Emmet's monologue droned on and on.

"..work like mules, those ones, but I don't know what they're prayin' to.. They say they're Protestant, but you can never tell these days."

They reconvened by the door, and Eddy was delighted to find his buddy's jacket dragging the ground; as he walked, bottles clattered and clinked. Ed's toothy grin was an indicator of his immense pride at the acquisitions, and Eddy was so overjoyed he mirrored it.

"How'd I do, Eddy?"

Eddy couldn't help but explode with laughter. "You sure were thorough, that's for sure!"

That was their mistake.

Emmet finally realized what was going on. Slowly, he spun himself around to look at his monitors. No, the Ed-boys hadn't checked for cameras, nor did they take into account their gross underestimate of the old man's common sense. After so many lootings from everyone from local kids to the Lemon Brook Lumpers, he had installed a security system…

And now he saw clearly.

"..Hh….Hey, BUBBA!" he hollered horsely, "We got SHOPLIFTERS! Come quick!"

Eddy's optimism disappeared, and he shot for the door. "We've been made, lumpy! We gotta scram!" Ed went dashing after him, the coat dragging across the linoleum floor and down the steps. The immense treasure kicked up gravel as they made for the van, piling in.

Emmet pushed the silent alarm. In reality, this did not call the police; it was merely linked to a buzzer in the outhouse nearby, where Bubba- his attendant- lay, asleep on the pot. Jarred awake, Bubba grabbed his conveniently-placed machete, and came charging out with his pants between his legs. He waved the knife above his head and screamed, like some parody of a Vandal warrior; Double D, looking up from a book by Dr. Bohr, was mortified at this sight.

"Eddy, hurry!"

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'! Lumpy ain't gonna-"

At last, they managed to shove the coat-tails of Ed's jacket- which was fit to burst- into the van. Eddy dived in the back, while Double D slid over to the driver's side, turning the key.

The van cranked, but did not start.

"EDDY!"

Double D locked the doors just in time for Bubba to reach them. Cranking and cranking, the Eds prayed the old van would start, while the hefty man tried to break out the glass.

Suddenly, the realization hit Eddy.

"Double D, pump the gas!"

Eddward did, and the van fired with a road. Slamming it into drive, he punched it, and peeled out. The van spewed gravel all over Bubba, knocking him onto his back and shattering the station's storefront windows. The van went thundering away, leaving a half-blind old man, an empty liquor store, and a hillbilly with no pants on, choking on exhaust and rage.

A few miles further out, Double D pulled the van off the road at a turnout, parking it behind a billboard.

"That was some raid, Eddy!" he announced with an air of sarcasm, "Tell me, do you think they've taken down our plate number? Or, perhaps they're simply looking for THE ONLY PURPLE CAMPER-VAN WITH ORANGE FLAMES IN THE COUNTY?! Really, I don't condone petty larceny, but can't we commit it with a more forgettable automobile?!" He sighed, going limp in his bucket seat. "It matters not, for the police are already tracing our very movements…"

Eddy grinned and shrugged. "What, the cops? Oh, don't worry! That old guy? He ain't even got a phone! Even if he did, there's no service out here."

"Eddy, what about the land-line?"

Eddy chose to ignore that, and instead turned to Ed. "..Alright, knucklehead, let's see what's in the coat!"

"Sure thing, chief!" The grinning Ed turned his coat inside-out, and the van rocked as the entirety of its contents dropped on the bed. Frankly, there were less bottles than there were cereal boxes, canned goods and motor oil… What little Eddy could find that was good to drink was either Mexican specialty soda, chocolate milk or vegetable oil.

Ed was completely oblivious to this, and smirked proudly. "Are we gonna get tore up, or what?"

Eddy was dismayed, and began to search among the pile. "Starch? Baking soda? RUBBING ALCOHOL?! How are we gonna give this to Kevin?! You lunkhead, you took everything but the beer!"

"B-but, Eddy, what about your bags?"

Eddy backed off, no longer slapping his friend, and dived into the shopping bags, searching fervently.

But, alas. He had procured a bottle of Mexican Coke, two cans of light beer, and twenty gallons worth of Lipton iced tea.

"What th-...Aw, come on!"


	3. Chapter 3

By the time the Eds had returned, it was noon. High clouds were beginning to obscure the sun, and the day had become muggy and warm. With the air conditioning on the van busted, Lumpy's pit-stink had become unbearable; so much so, that when they returned to Eddy's house, it was almost before the vehicle stopped rolling when Edd and Eddy bailed. A confused dehydrated Ed climbed into the front seat and shut off the engine before joining them.

Eddy's spirits were low. "Jeez, what a waste of gas.."

Double D offered some condolences. "While we may very well be wanted fugitives, we at least have a wonderful collection of cultural sodas! Why, I'm certain Kevin will look upon us favorably for our efforts. I know a wonderful recipe for bean dip, certain to-"

"WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND BEAN DIP?!" A dejected Eddy took a swig of the Jarritos and spit it all over the surface of the lane. "This stuff stinks, and so's our social life! How are we gonna meet fine chicks if we ain't got good booze?"

Double D suppressed his outrage. "..Surely, women are interested in more than moonshine and drunken shenanigans!"

Eddy began to trudge solemnly to his back gate. "Well, I guess we'll never know, Double D, 'cause we ain't-... what the hell is moonshine?"

"Homemade brew of the Appalachian mountain people," Ed elaborated, "A favorite of interstellar invaders, in Rebel Yell Comics' issue six, 'Attack of The Carpetbaggers From Beyond The Stars!'"

"An excellent answer, Ed!" Double D lauded his comrade's uncanny knowledge. "However, while I cannot confirm or deny whether extraterrestrial beings enjoy it, I can safely say that moonshine is not limited to the south. Why, even in northern states, it was not uncommon for farmers to have homemade stills for brewing!"

Eddy skittered back over. "Y'mean, all we gotta do is find a farm, and we could buy some whiskey?"

Double D's enthusiasm became anxiety once more. "Well, not necessarily… while moonshine was popular in the past, Prohibition has been gone for eighty-three years.. Why, a successful farmer could just go to the local feed store."

"Ooh, I know," suggested Ed, "We'll go to the Feed Store and buy beer!"

Silence greeted this.

Eddy grabbed Double D's shoulders, and the former let out a startled 'eep' as Eddy pulled him close. "But, who do we know who's a farmer?"

"...Surely, you're kidding."

"Who do we know who's so old-school, he rode to school on a goat until he was fifteen?

Ed ground his gears, and even he soon understood.

A few minutes later, the Eds were across the street to find tire-tracks all over Rolf's front yard. The fence on the right side had been smashed away, where something had been coming and going. The sound of a rumbling, coughing engine note punctuated the air.

"Sounds like Rolf is doing some gardening," Edd mused.

"Gardening nothin'," Eddy snorted, "Sounds like he's buildin' an airport back there. When's he gonna put some mufflers on that thing?"

"That thing" was Rolf's tractor, which was busy loading a truck when they arrived. A few years ago, Rolf's father grew tired of bucking turnips into the bed of his Ford by hand. He forked out for a used bucket attachment, which proved to be a great improvement over hours of backbreaking labor. Rolf was making good use of it, scooping great mounds of suspect brown dirt at a time, raising them over the side and spilling them into the bed.

Rolf, absorbed in his work, hardly noticed them when they arrived. Eddy sat on the back porch, and shouted 'til he was hoarse to get his attention.

"Rolf?...Rolf!...HEY STRETCH! OVER HERE?!" Panting from the effort, Eddy gave up. "...Ah, screw it… Ed, get his attention."

The rock knocked Rolf off his tractor, which sputtered and stopped a foot away. He lay, dazed, in the grass beside it, seeing stars and a lump on his head.

He stared into the sun, that great light that would lift him up and take him home, to his great Nana and the country from which he had came…

...And then three demons blocked it out.

"Oh… Oh, no, I beg of you…"

All three spoke.

"Hiya, Rolf!"

Suddenly, Rolf felt very silly. He supposed someone had hit a rock while mowing the lawn.

"..Ah, hello, Ed-boys!" He righted himself with a smile, and tried to shrug off the spinning sensation. "What brings you to Rolf's humble abode?"

Ed spoke first, in a bubbly giggle. "We seek sustenance for the Pennsylvaliens. Take me to your still!"

Rolf faltered. "..Still? What is this still you speak of?"

Double D stepped forward, offering a shake. "What Ed means to say is, we're… seeking to purchase some of your wares! Have you any whiskey?"

Rolf echoed him. "Whiskey? Ha-ha! Aha-ha-ho-ho-ho! You think Rolf is a Duke-boy, Ed-boys? What use does Rolf have for whiskey, when the humble mead cures all illness?"

Eddy was confused. "...What the hell's a mead?"

"Mead," Double D explained, "is an alcoholic drink of fermented honey, hops and fruit."

Rolf nodded in agreement. "Yah-yah! A popular beverage in the old country. Rolf offers you a sample of his papa's legendary boysenberry blend!" He clambered back on the tractor and produced from his cupholder a large stein. "Come! Drink!"

Ed drank first, and his curious expression turned to an excited grin. "It's so sweet, Eddy!"

"Gimme that!" Eddy swiped the mug and took a sip. His eyes lit up, and he drank a bit more, before laughing. "Double D, you gotta try this."

"N-now, Eddy, I don't-"

"C'mon, sockhead, you'll be fine!"

"V-very well." The nervous Eddward took a sniff, and slowly lifted it back. After a ginger taste, he turned back to the group with stars in his eyes. "..My word, Rolf, this is exceptional!"

Rolf nodded jovially. "The Nectar of The Gods, yes?"

Eddy couldn't help but pat him on the back. "You're tellin' me!... We gotta get a keg'a this stuff… No, two! Screw the party, I'm gonna start drinkin' this all the time!"

"Rolf is sorry, culinary tourist Ed-boys, for he has only ten gallons, and those are his father's."

"W-well, that's alright," Eddy insisted, "We'll pay ya 'ta make more! Name your price, we'll take it!"

Rolf considered, and nodded. "It is a deal! Rolf will begin tomorrow!"

They began to shake hands vigorously. "Oh, good on ya, Rolfy boy, good on ya! You ain't got any ide-" _Tomorrow._ Eddy just about shattered into a million pieces. "..No no, no, we gotta have it _today_!"

"Rolf is simply too busy; Rolf's family has recently acquired many hectares of land on Highway 99. The chores of the farmyard have become a heavy burden on the broad shoulders of a Son of A Shepherd… Conversation with unionized-peach-picker Ed-boys has cost Rolf much time, if he wishes to attend the social dance at Kevin's residence…"

Double D attempted to be find a solution. "Perhaps Ed could help you with your chores?"

"NO!" Rolf tensed, backing away. "Keep that one away from Rolf's homestead! He reeks of day-old cabbage and works with the intensity of a soft-rock radio station playlist! Rolf will complete the burden alone, with his beloved family and trusty tractor."

Eddy, having come so close, was not impressed. "C'mon, Rolf, Kevin sent us! If you don't do this, that party won't have any hooch!"

"Rolf is spirited enough; he has been drinking mead since before the sunrise, and is quite content! Hopefully, he will see you at the festivities. Good-bye!"

"You lousy… Oh, fine, be that way! C'mon, boys, let's go." Eddy began to march away, with his two friends trailing closely behind. "And, I'll pick up that batch of mead tomorrow night! Call me up and we'll network!"

"Very well, but leave for the moment! Rolf is busy!" The shepherd, drenched in sweat, took off his shirt and tucked it under his seat for safe-keeping. But, when he tried the tractor's ignition, she didn't fire.

"...Accursed Ed-boys! The spirits of combustion have cursed Rolf's ill-named Farmall with VAPOR-LOCK!"

Double D and Eddy had sent Ed home for a shower. While he protested some, his participation at Peach Creek High's swim team had taught him basic grooming habits, and he was cleaner than he ever was. So, when he smelled his excruciating B.O., he took their word for it and hurried back to his place.

Now, they were sipping soda on the curb outside Edd's house, with only five hours before the party. At one-thirty, the sun was high in the sky, and the clouds began to clear. It was a beautiful spring day by anybody's standards, though Eddy couldn't see it.

"I know what would cheer you up, Eddy," Double D suggested amiably.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Why don't we go swimming at the swimming-hole? That never fails to cheer you up!"

"Nah. By the time Ed gets clean, it'll be dark out."

Double D giggled. "He's never been the cleanest, has he?"

Eddy agreed. "No kiddin'! The guy smells like a silo full'a cow crap."

"I concur, but where would we be without him?"

Eddy snickered and held his jaw. "If he didn't break everything, we'd have been in the seven-figure bracket by age eleven!"

"Au contraire! Who would have helped me construct the pyramid? Who would have hauled that wagon full of newspapers? Surely, not you or I."

Eddy hadn't considered that. "...Yeah, you're right, Ed's a dependable guy. We've had a hell of a time with him, huh?.."

Double D's smile faded. "... For someone who _implores_ me not to rake up the past, you're rather nostalgic... What goes on?"

Eddy stared at the pavement. "You remember when we started Senior Year, Double D?"

"Unfortunately, I remember my entire academic career quite vividly."

"Well, I remember when we were sittin' in my van.. It was you, me and Ed.. That was the night after you and Rolf swapped the engine… And, we were thinkin', what it'd be like to be graduated, what kinda trouble we could get into, with all that time on our hands… And, it's been a week, and what're we doin'? What we always have- Just, tryin' to get drunk and screwin' off."

"Oh, come now, Eddy! We have our whole lives ahead of us, you can't expect us to know exactly what we wish to do immediately after graduation!"

"Oh, c'mon, sockhead, you're crazy about all sorts'a stuff. Anthropology, zoology, culinology, car-ology… You gotta do somethin' with that!.. God knows, we can't do nothin' around here. I mean, what d'ya expect us t'do, stay in Peach Creek our whole lives? We can't do that… Th'whole stinkin' world's out there, and th'farthest we've been t'gether is Long Beach. We ain't got nothin' to our name together. You know that."

"Double negative, Eddy…" Double D looked away, toward the smokestacks of the abandoned powerhouse beyond the Junkyard. You could see them from the Cul-De-Sac, two red cylinders jutting into the sky.

Eddy noted his change of tone. "...What's up? Now you're Mr. Downbeat?"

"I applied to Stanford University for the fall quarter, Eddy. They've accepted me."

"..I guess this our last summer together."

"Not necessarily, Eddy," Double D offered, "While the chances are… incredibly slim that you and Ed would be accepted, I nonetheless encourage you to pursue…"

"Get real, will ya? Ed's never gettin' in.. Me, I'm sharp as a tack- a real good-lookin' tack- but, college ain't my bag. I'm an entree preener."

"Do you mean-"

"Entree..Entry… Entrepreneur. Whatever… I gotta play the odds, and odds are college stinks."

Double D tittered to himself.

"What's so funny."

"...Surely, you can think of a better way to spend our last summer than this! Does money you earned picking peaches last year still reside in a mutual fund?"

"Psssh, yeah, all three hundred bucks of it."

"Well, I say, consarn the future! We should engage in something substantial before we go our separate ways! Make this a time to remember, put all those summers of seedy scams to shame! With a contribution from all of us, we can make this, dare I say, an unforgettable summer!"

Eddy patted Double D on the back, laughing hysterically. "So much for Mr. Sensible, eh, Double D?"

"Coin is fleeting, Eddy; memories last a lifetime!"

They exchanged wide grins. "So, that's that… We're gonna have the best summer ever!"

"That's the plan, at least!"

Eddy's enthusiasm began to mellow, but his upbeat attitude remained. "Well, alright, but first, we gotta take care of this "booze" issue…"

Ed, who had finished his shower, came dashing across the lane, laughing.

"Eddy! Double D, look what I found!"

Ed was holding something over his head, that was for sure. But, at that distance, Eddy couldn't see. He strained his eyes to make out the shape.

"...What's he carrying, sockhead?"

"I'm not certain, but here's to hoping it helps us in some way."

Ed reached them, halted in the middle of the street, and kept running in place, almost dancing as he held before them a large, empty water-jug.

Eddy was unimpressed.

"...That's it? A water-jug? Ed, what are we gonna do with AN EMPTY PLASTIC JUG?"

Double D pondered it curiously, before it occurred to him. "N-no, Eddy! Remember where we acquired the jug?"

"It was full of bathtub wine, Eddy!" Ed added.

Eddy blinked.

"...Oh, no. _No_. We can't go there."

"But, we're running out of time!" insisted Ed, shaking him vigorously, "And Kevin said he'd let me play Mothra on his big-screen! MOTHRA, EDDY!"

"Okay, okay, fine!" Eddy broke away, and placed his foot on the van's back bumper.. He tried to strike a casually heroic pose, as he wound up for his big speech.

"Boys, these are hard times for us. We ain't got a clue, or a buck between us… But, if we're gonna be split apart in the fall, we gotta have one last party. I think this is it."

"What lies ahead is nothin' we haven't seen before. We've been down there many times, and we swore we'd never go back. But, if we're gonna get some kids sloshed tonight, we gotta get some hooch- and, to get it, we gotta march straight into the Jaws 'a hell!.."

Double D was shaking. "Eddy, I beg of you to reconsider. We'll be dressed like elk, or eviscerated by wild dogs!" Sweat was pouring from his pores. He looked like a neurotic chihuahua, outside in Minnesota on the first of January. His eyes were bugged out and huge, as if he'd never been this scared before in his life.

But, Ed stood tall and rigid, his expression suddenly grim. Still wet from his shower, and wearing the same, filthy clothes he'd just changed out of, he stood at attention and held a salute.

"Commander Eddy," he announced, "It has been an honor to serve with you. ED WILL JOIN YOU!" Ed broke into a run toward the van, laughing.

Double D forced himself still. "...V-...very well, gentlemen… I too will participate… For, I could not, with any good conscience, allow you both to go it alone. As they say on our home planet… S-...Space Outlaws forever!"

Eddy bursted out into rackety laughter. "...What the hell was that! 'Space Outlaws Forever'?! I can't believe you just said that!"

Ed seemed amused too, as he joined in with his own guffaws. Double D was blushing, very embarrassed, and looked away from them.

"It… It was in the spirit of camaraderie, Eddy.. It took hold of me."

"Yeah, but-"

"Space Outlaws forever" bellowed Ed. "Space Outlaws orever!"

"See, Eddy? Ed's certainly in the spirit!" Double D felt quite relieved, as he hadn't made such a fool of himself after all. They were _all_ fools, and Eddy's denial was nothing but that- denial.

"Alright, fine," grumbled Eddy, "Space Outlaws forever.. Let's get this over with…" He clambered up into the driver's seat, as the other two hopped in the back.

"Full speed ahead!" Ed declared.

"Engage ignition!" Double D added.

When the van coughed to life, they cheered amongst themselves, with Ed producing a kazoo and playing the melody to 'Stars and Stripes forever.' Eddy couldn't help but find this endearing, and cracked a grin.

"Control, are we clear for takeoff?"

"That's a Roger, Commander Eddy!"

"Very well, Space Deputy Double D. Count it down!..."

Ed began to count backwards. "TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!"

Eddy popped the van into drive, and held it still with the brake.

"...FIVE...FOUR…"

Punching the exhaust, the van groaned, and began to rip a burnout.

"THREE….TWO….ONE!...LIFTOFF!"

Eddy let the brake go, and the Vandura surged forward, tires squeaking. The nose of the van lunged upward, but did not leave the ground- This wasn't a cartoon, after all.

Eddy, finally feeling this "spirit of camaraderie," as sockhead put it, screeched "LIFTOFF!"

The careening party swerved left from Rethink onto Figueroa, rattling off toward the wastes beyond. A few moments later, a blue Plymouth pulled out of the alley, and hurried along after them.

"Next stop, PLANET KANKER!"


	4. Chapter 4

The van rocked and bounced down a heavily-rutted dirt road. Behind the construction site lay the swampy woods, dark and foreboding. A place few people- kids or adults- dared to enter, for fear of coming upon something that didn't concern them. As the trio forged further into the trees, the more the mossy overgrowth hemmed them in.

The Eds were in the belly of the beast.

In earlier times, any visitor in a southern town would find themselves introduced to a whole other world- easygoing, frozen in time, and painfully traditional. But, if some considered these idyllic hamlets to be sleepy tributes to the past, then the woods and swamps would be a nightmarish parody, a twisted caricature of the past that was as real as it was horrifying.

In one hundred fifty years, the concept of poor white trash has not changed much. Ignorant, backward people, living in abject poverty in the sticks. As a matter of fact, the rumors made up by the Cul-De-Sac were not dissimilar to those Northerners spun of "swamp people" in the deep south- Starving people, absolute squalor, prolific drug use. Some kids claimed that the park residents ate clay- a rumor straight from the Confederate canon.

But, the image was hardly accurate. while drug use was far worse, and accomodations weren't the ritz, the vast majority of these rough-cut people were upstanding working-class people- albeit rather ignorant.

This did not include the Kanker Sisters.

Whereas the rest of the trailers had either been lovingly maintained, or replaced by sturdier mobile homes, the Kanker residence had only gotten worse. A blue tarp, tied to the ground with tent posts, flapped and fluttered on the roof. The blue-on-blue sheet metal had accumulated surface-rust. A leaky old air-conditioner on its last legs grinded and sputtered in the kitchen window. An old Plymouth crouched on their dead lawn, joined by an old lawn chair and a derelict washing machine. To the Eds, it was the Marsten House- dark, foreboding, with its unmistakable aura of darkness.

"So, uh...sockhead!" proposed Eddy, patting his buddy on the back, "Why don't you go first..?"

Double D took out a handkerchief, gingerly swabbing the sweat from his forehead."S-..Surely, you must be joking?"

"No, not at all!.. Heh, you got a way with the ladies, y'know that?"

Edd was not impressed. "..I appreciate the sentiment, Eddy, but those _ladies_ , as you so generously dub them, are responsible for the worst recurring nightmares I have ever suffered!"

Eddy stomped his foot. "Fine, who needs you? Ed, go ring the bell!"

"You got it, chief!" Ed, not thinking, slung the two over each shoulder and charged for the trailer, crashing into the door and spilling them on the ground before it. Straightening himself, he wailed on the door incessantly, as the other two backed slowly behind him.

A knock on the door interrupted another glorious movie marathon. May and Marie were on the couch, while Lee was in the kitchen, making the popcorn. They had rochambeau'd to pick who'd go; naturally, she lost.

 _Bzzzzzzz._ Someone was ringing the buzzer now.

 _Bzzzzzzzzzzzzt._

Lee, still standing over the stove, growled. "IS ANYBODY GONNA OPEN THE DOOR?!"

"Get it yourself!" came Marie's shrieking response, "The racy part's comin' on!"

May let out a bubbly giggle. "You better hurry, Brad Pitt is gettin' nakey~!"

Lee took one glance at the popcorn bag upon the stove, then to the door. "FINE, _I'll_ get it, but you girls better rewind!" And, thus, she stomped to the door, to face these interlopers.

While the Eds waited, all three assessed the conditions of the park.

"Y'know," Eddy suggested, "This place ain't as bad as I thought it was."

"I will concede," Double D admitted, "There are far fewer dogs…"

"And blue tarps!" added Ed.

"Yes," Double D agreed, "And the ratio of stripped cars to complete ones is far more optimistic!..."

They all jumped at the muffled hollers from inside. Double D had hopped into Ed's arms, while the latter simply held him there, unsure of what was going on.

"...I'm still _terrified_ of _this_ particular dwelling."

Ed nodded in agreement. "We've seen some bad stuff here, Eddy."

"Psh," Eddy hissed, taking point to show what a big man he was, "Get over yourselves, it's just a trailer. We're grown-ass men now, I ain't scared."

And then Lee answered the door. Taken aback slightly, she flinched a bit, before scowling at them through her bangs. "Well, lookit that.. Somebody left trash on 'da lawn again."

Ed, confused, took a look behind them. "There's nothing here but us, Lee.."

Immediately, he regretted stepping in front. From the corner of his mouth, Eddy whispered to his cohorts. "...Okay, fine, I'm scared."

"Lee," Marie hollered, "Who is it?"

"Nobody, Marie! Just the girl scouts!" Lee crossed her arms, glaring down at Eddy. "..You got a lotta balls t'come over here, after what'cha did'ta us."

The noise in the trailer abruptly stopped, the movie pausing. May called out.

"Girl Scouts?!"

The Eds jumped at the sound of clattering cans,garbage shifting, and skittering footsteps toward the door. Lee turned round to find her two sisters, both clad in their trashy, "casual" clothes (in reality nothing more than old t-shirts and baggy shorts) crashing toward the door, pushing and shoving for pole-position.

"Ask if they have cookies!" screeched May.

"No way," jeered Marie, "Your fat ass always eats 'em all!"

"They were my cookies, Marie!"

"I loaned you the money, lardass!"

As these two rolled over and over on the muddy floor, pulling hair and throwing punches, The Eds simply stared, speechless in their bewilderment.

"They haven't changed a bit," Double D mused.

"That's not true, Double D," Ed interjected, "Their legs are hairier! See?"

Lee turned to face them, not impressed. "Are you jus' here 'ta insult us, or do you want somethin'?"

Eddy could see his life flashing before his eyes. "..Well, uh, about that.."

Double D mustered some courage and stepped forward, adjusting his hat. "..We, hm… are attending a social function tonight, and were wondering-"

Lee slammed the door- in which his foot got caught. Double D, racked with pain, let out a screech like a boiling cat.

Eddy threw it open again, while Ed grabbed Double D and began to rock him in his arms. "What the hell was that for? That could'a been me!"

The redhead chucked a vase at Eddy, which went sailing past his head and into the side of another trailer. "You ain't got no shame!" she cried, "You broke my heart when I was just a _girl_ , spend years jerkin' me along, you sent Marie 'ta _juvie_ … An' now, you and your buddies want _dates_?! Go 'ta _hell_!"

She slammed the door again, only for Eddy to catch it and fight to keep it open.

"Nnnn-No, you don't understand!" He struggled to speak, straining against the Kanker's monumental strength, "We ain't here for that!.."

Double D, now free of Ed's comfort, hopped over to the door on his good foot. "We were only wondering if you had… any more of that… delectable nectar you gave us after prom..!"

Lee echoed him. "...Nectar?...What, the French perfume we stole outta that train wreck…?"

Eddy blinked. "What? No!"

The door slid open, and Eddy, now pushing against nothing, fell on his face with a grunt.

"That… strong stuff; you used to make it outta Walmart grapes, and antifreeze," he mumbled.

grinning vacatly, thrust forth the jug. "Refill, please!"

Lee pushed her bangs aside, and studied them intensely. "...How do I know you ain't Narcs?"

"Narcs? Ha! Lee, baby, we'd never do that to ya!" Eddy tried to put an arm around her, which she promptly threw off.

"Ya did 'ta Marie, when ya told her 'ta take that watch in tha mall!"

"I told'ya, I WAS _FRAMED_!"

"People, please!" Double D got between the two, who were fixing to brawl. This was a brave move for a man on one foot. "Lee, we simply ask to purchase some of your wares. If the police required informants, surely they could gather better candidates for such a position, than a trio of gentlemen best-known for flim-flam and trickery?"

"So, what you're sayin' is, you're the obvious choice.. And that makes ya a terrible choice?"

Eddy jerked a thumb at their ride.. "With a van like that, you could see us comin' a mile away!" Wiping the dust off himself, he offered a crooked grin to disarm her. "...See? We just want some'a your hooch. _Trust_ us!"

Lee gave him one final glance, and shrugged. "Eh, what the hell. Come on in; the place is a mess, but I don't care."

As the Eds filed in, they passed May, finally pinning Marie to the ground- nose bloodied, but triumphant.

"Ha! _You're_ the lard-ass, _lard-ass_! Now, where'd those Scouts go to?"

"There weren't no Scouts, May," Lee grunted, "You're just stupid."

The two, dazed, looked up from their positions to find the Eds filing into their bathroom.

Marie cocked her head. "...When'd _they_ get here?"

The place was a mess, smelling strongly of B.O. and cheap weed. Mud was tracked everywhere, and cans littered the floor. Despite all the decay, all four of them were still surprised indeed to find a middle-aged brunette woman asleep in the Kankers' bath-tub, which was filled to the brim with wine. The room stank of fermenting fruit, while flies buzzed busily around the single lamp. The woman, completely unphased, wheezed peacefully, up to her neck in the red liquid. A Little River Band song played softly on a shower radio hung from the curtain-rod.

Lee scratched her head. "Ah, hell, this ain't good."

Eddy was perplexed. "...Who's _this_ old bag?"

The red-head Kanker gave him a dirty look. "That old bag's our _ma_ , Eddy."

Double D was shielding his eyes. "To think, it took us this long to meet her! If only it had been on more.. Pleasant terms."

As the other half of the family filed in, May reacted in delight.

"Hey, mom's home!"

Marie put her hands on her hips. "How'd she sneak in without us noticin'?"

"WHO CARES?!" Eddy got on his knees and wept like a girl; ma Kanker didn't stir one bit. "We were so close to gettin' in- so freakin' close- and God dumped this used up old broad in the bathtub and screwed up the whole program! I'm gettin' so tired of this crap, I'm gonna get an aneurysm or somethin'..."

At this point, he wiped his tears and stood up. "Y'know what? Forget it."

Double D fretted behind him. "...I'm sorry, Eddy-"

Ignoring his two friends- and the Kankers, frankly- Eddy stomped out to the living room to the door. "I try my whole friggin' life t'get these guys t'like me, and we _still_ gotta buy 'em beer! I can't believe this crap!"

Marie, who'd been silently watching, approached. "...They ain't gonna let you boys in unless you're their mule..?"

May concurred. "Sounds like they're milkin' you for the piss!."

All three were taken aback, even the relatively cultured Double D.

"..Ec… Excuse me?"

May looked between them and went red in the face. "...It's… an Australian…nevermind..."

"Well, if you don't mind me sayin' so," interrupted Lee, "They sound like a bunch'a deadbeats, even compared t' _you_. Why're you boys hangin' around with 'em anyways?"

Ed fielded this question. "That is simple, Lee; They are our neighbors."

Eddy nodded. "You expect us t'drive an hour t'Lemon Brook t'go to a party? I ain't welcome back there after eighth grade..

Lee tried to keep herself from smirking. "..Wow… that's, uh… that's kinda sad."

"We're well aware," Double D replied with a sigh, "But, there is little we can do about it at the moment."

There were a few moments of silence, with nothing but the sound of ma's radio and the hum of the VCR. The Kankers exchanged glances between each other, before breaking into a huddle. They whispered sharply amongst one another, occasionally throwing glances back to the boys, before beginning again in earnest

While it was like Double D to worry, now all three boys were disconcerted by this behavior.

At last, the Kankers broke huddle, turning around to face them.

"Y'know," Marie proposed, stepping forward gingerly, "We got this guy, who makes moonshine in his backyard…"

"We already tried Rolf," grunted Eddy.

She cocked her head. "... The hell's a 'Rolf'?"

Lee shoved her back, and strode confidently to meet Eddy. "Alright, wise-guys, here's the deal. We'll show you our boy, and get'cha some of the stuff for free.."

"REALLY?!" Eddy knelt before her, grabbing her hand in an uncharacteristically passionate move. "Oh, baby, thank you! You're the best! Did I ever tell you how good your hair looks in a beehive?"

Lee, irked by this blatant ass-kissing, flung Eddy into his two friends like a bowling ball.

"Only catch is, you gotta sneak us in."

After all the abuse in this chapter, Eddy was beginning to see spots. He crawled from his pile of friends, trembling. "Like… like, a date?"

The girls erupted in incredulous laughter.

"Naw, stupid," sneered Marie, "We wanna scope out the out-of-towners!"

"But, they'd never let us in alone, so you're sneakin' us in," Lee added.

May was grinning, tense with anticipation. "I dunno what _you_ two are talkin' about; I'm goin' with _Big Ed!_ "

Lee shrugged. "...Suit y'self, I guess."

Ed was horrified; throwing open the door, he ran out screaming, taking sanctuary in the van. May was not phased.

Eddy sizzled unhappily. "You runaround little-... Okay, fine…" By now, he felt well enough to go nose-to-nose with the redhead. She was taller than him, and held her ground firmly. "...But, if you guys ruin this like you ruined homecoming, you're gonzo, capiche?"

Nothing but silence, and the two glaring and growling just a bit. Eddy was dimly aware of a sucking noise- like a jet engine winding up.

Lee hocked a loogie with such force, that, when planted on his forehead, Eddy dropped on his tailbone, shaking the trailer. Marie and May busted a gut, while Double D, shocked by this act, contemplated the inertia.

Eddy scrambled to his feet, appalled at the way he'd been treated. "What the hell was that?!"

"Just a traditional Kanker handshake," Lee replied, looking pleased with her handiwork, "You got'cha self a deal."

Eddy, limping from his merciless thrashing in the last scene, followed Lee through the court. Double D skittered meekly behind, flanked by the two younger sisters. Ed, who had rejoined them, trailed far in the rear, not content to abandon his friends were led to a clean, cream-yellow double-wide in the very back, placed on a small peninsula on the edge of the swamp. A regular flock of lawn flamingos grazed on a lush lawn, with a faded-yellow Chevelle parked out front.

The impression was not lost on the boys.

"Whoa… Up-town!" declared Ed, nodding with approval at a rooster-themed weathervane.

"I must say," agreed Double D, "For all its gaudy kitsch, it certainly brightens up the shady surroundings!"

Eddy, not impressed, turned his chin up. "Eh, looks kinda fruity to me."

Lee shuddered with a suppressed laugh. "Yeah, 'cause you'd know somethin' about bein' fruity."

"...What's that supposed'ta mean?"

May put an arm around him and pointed an index finger to his chin. "Aw, c'mon, shortstop! Don't act like you ain't heard the rumors!"

Eddy seethed. "..WHAT rumors?!"

"The ones about you and Double D," purred Lee, "Y'know, huggin', 'n' kissin', 'n' gettin' it on in the janitor's closet…"

Double D blushed; Eddy threw May off, her teeth plowing deep furrows in the earth as she landed. "Who keeps _sayin_ ' that stuff?!"

Marie, mortified, blindsided Eddy and tackled him into the grass. "Don't you go touchin' my sister, bub!"

Lee, not bothering to help the struggling May up, stomped over to confront them. "Are you gettin' fresh with my man?"

Marie blinked. "What..? No, idiot, I-"

"Did you jus' call me an idiot?"

"Hell yeah!"

And, as such, they were at each other's throats again, with Eddy right in the middle. Double D recoiled in horror and hid behind the Chevelle, while Ed watched grimly, preparing to intervene.

Silently, stoic, he pulled them up by their britches and turned them about to face him. Lee and Marie had never seen Ed at his worst- Only May had, and they'd never believed her stories- but the storm brewing in his mind was readily visible to them, and they found their courage shrinking inward.

He spoke in a hushed, deliberate voice. "Ladies," he huffed, "The business at hand."

Double D, feeling somewhat stronger behind Ed, crossed his arms and scowled. "Indeed. This secondary plot is growing quite tiresome."

Awestruck, the two nodded, and Ed set them gently down. "The doorbell."

Marie tried to crack a smile. "A-ah, yeah… C'mon, sis, let's get goin'."

The two approached the trailer, and rang politely. When that didn't work, they rang twice with urgency, and gave the door a pound or four. After a long ten seconds, Lee gave an irritated shout.

"PARNELLI!"

Bottles clinked, and something thudded. A dazed moan followed.

"Wh-...Lee…?"

The redhead kicked the door, putting a big dent in the thin tin sheeting. "Open the _door,_ Parnelli, you got _guests!_ "

There was a moment of hesitation, of silence- An unseen eye glared through the peephole, and then the clatter of locks and chains. Finally, the door opened.

Before them stood a greasy black pompadour of ridiculous size. Attached to that pompadour was a gangly white kid in thick, circular glasses. A thin black goatee like a goat's dangled from a weak chin. A wide-collared yellow Hawaiian shirt draped across his narrow, sagging shoulders. He wore wrangler jeans and no shoes. His toenails were a little long, and folks, even I don't wanna linger on them.

He looked around at his neighbors, scratching the back of his head. Then, his gaze turned to the Eds, wheels turning in that elongated noggin of his.

"Boys," Lee declared, "This'ere is Roy. He's the brewmeister here, makes good shit."

"Burn your nostrils off!" shouted Marie.

"I like it that way.." May giggled and looked away.

Ed stuck out a hand, and Roy gave it a limp shake. "How do you do, you?"

"Hey, man.."

Eddy shoved his buddy aside, sending Ed sprawling into a holly bush that he promptly shrugged off with a grunt. He grabbed Roy's hand and shook. The grip was so hard that veins bulged behind the porthole glasses.

"Hey, champ, how are ya? How about that rum-runnin' racket, huh? How's about hookin' us up?"

But, much to Eddy's bemusement, he wasn't focused on him. Instead, the bulging, beady eyes rest on Sockhead, who was glaring daggers at him. As his grip slackened, he saw Roy's eyes narrow.

Eddy chuckled, bewildered. "Uh- Hey, boys, am I missin' something?"

Lee spoke up. "What, you didn't know? These guys got somethin' between them. Somethin' about some school bullshit."

"Robotics," Roy clarified, with some pathetic nasal growl, "My Junior year. Edd was a sophomore."

Double D cleared his throat. "Mr. Parnelli, I suggest you let _me_ elaborate. After all, it was _my_ hopes of victory you dashed. It seems you attended for the sole purpose of drinking the complimentary _soda pop._ Your dental hygienists will be rich men and women, I assure you."

"You wanna elaborate, man? Tell these guys about how you tinkered with my rig! How it fell apart and lost the tourney!"

"Your main motor _seized_ because _you_ insisted in using spare parts from a set of _decrepit windshield wipers!_ Which, I might add, were in horrendous shape. Have you any sense of _quality,_ any sense of _esprit de corps?_ You and your apathy _embarrassed_ the brightest minds that school had to offer!"

Eddy felt Roy's grip tighten, his reedy voice rising to a shout. "If you weren't so uptight about cleaning, the motor wouldn't have jammed! I'd lubed her up real good before the match!"

"That monstrosity was _filthy!_ "

The two began to bicker loudly, hurling insults and gesturing wildly. A few people rolled their windows down as the spectacle continued.

"Acne-scarred frog!"

"Filthy phillistine!"

"Virgin sunnovabitch!"

"I saw you make eyes at the ref when we went to state!"

"I was asking for the time!"

"Why, if I had a nickel for every-"

"...such a penchant for crude euphemisms-"

"...you got any skirt in your life.."

All the other five would do was watch- unstoppable force, meets immovable object. These two pointdexters were so consumed by ego that they'd probably probably just keep going and going- Like the Energizer Bunny!

Lee sidled up alongside the ensnared Eddy, and mouthed to him a message.

 _Watch this!_

Slinking between the two, she looked up at Parnelli with a smirk, and his voice began to falter and fade. "Roy, _buddy!_ Y'liable t'blow a gasket, carryin' on like that. These boys don't want no trouble! They wanna _buy_ from ya!"

A horrific, magnified blink from behind the glasses met this remark. "...Yeah?"

She offered a husky giggle. "Of _course,_ big guy, of _course._ You make some good shit!"

"Burns your nose up!" May replied, paraphrasing Marie with a giggle.

"Shuddup, May… Now, whadd'ya say?"

His jaw worked behind a closed mouth, as if chewing gum. He glanced around at the guys, then back to Lee, making a raspy, low whiny noise. "Iiiii dunno…. These guys, they… they get into a lot of shit, don't they?..."

Ed offered a finger-gun and a grin, before being socked by Eddy. Lee tried to ignore them.

"You know it, but, y'see, they're in a bit of a jam, and we promised you'd help 'em out. You got what they need, and they're willin' t'pay your goin' rate."

 _In a jam_ sounded pretty NARCy to Roy Parnelli, and he took a step back. "They… They ain't undercovers, are they?"

All three sisters cackled and snorted. Marie jerked her thumb at the purple GMC van crouching in the distance. "Does that look like undercover to you?"

Lee put an arm around him and he flushed. "We wouldn't bring 'em to 'ya if they weren't on th'level- like you."

"That… That isn't comforting.."

"Aw, don't be silly… Now, let's see'dat still, eh?"

A driveway, nearly grown over but still visible, led to the back of the property. Here lay a crumbling foundation infested by blackberries, amid a clearing of tall, swampy grass. A house had burned here in the early sixties, leading to the sale of the land to developers. But, a basement remained relatively untouched, and here lay Roy's greatest work. A mammoth still, a monster of winding copper.

The whole thing chugged and sputtered, seeming to vibrate and shudder. A steel oil drum stood atop a burner's clutch of blue flame. The burner was ran by a propane tank sprawled curiously on the damp floor. Copper tubing wrapped around the tank, shooting off in violent directions, kinking, swirling, spewing steam and shuddering. A dripping valve deposited their foul-smelling innards in the sort of jug you'd see atop a water cooler- Exactly like the receptacle the Eds had brought with them.

Eddy was dumbfounded.

"We wanted booze, not meth!"

Parnelli scowled and got a little defensive at this, tensing his shoulders. "Hey, man, that thing is a work of art! Probably the best still in the county!

Double D gestured grandly at the contraption. "That, my good man," he proclaimed in a theatrical voice, "Is a gargantuan pipe-bomb!... and a very shoddy one too, I must say... My word, it looks about to burst. How do you vent the pressure on this infernal thing?"

"You don't! That's what makes the whiskey so good! That's how you succeed at this!"

"That makes no sense if any! All you'll succeed in doing is scattering a thin dust of what used to be this dwelling across a fifteen mile radius! Not to mention the splinters those oak timbers will give you and your cohorts in the Park!" And you left it alone like this?! Of all the shoddy, haphazard-"

Eddy came crashing over, shoving his body up between Sockhead and Parnelli's timebomb.

"Wait a second, sockhead…. Why d'you know so much about this stuff?"

Edd's eyelids fluttered, and he tossed his head over his shoulder. "It's only elementary engineering, Eddy; any educated man would see its shortcomings."

Roy howled an interjection.

"Any educated man'd tell you you're a pussywillow!"

Double D barked a harsh, abrasive laugh. "Building a _quality_ still isn't particularly difficult, Mr. Parnelli. Why, with some copper tubing and a bit of-"

It was Eddy's turn to butt in."Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop this showdown crap for a sec. You mean to tell me, you could've made moonshine the whole time?"

Sockhead hesitated; in his hubris, he had betrayed a vital secret. "W-well…. Yes."

"Then why didn't you build one in the FIRST PLACE?!"

A heartbeat went by. Then, the Sock circled. He stormed around the room, gesturing wildly with one index finger.

"Oh, _certainly,_ Eddy, why not? It's not as if we've acquired a _reputation_ for rickety contraptions- contraptions that garner the attention of _law enforcement!_ It isn't as if my internet history is forever placed on a watchlist! It isn't to say that my mother and father wouldn't find out, and banish me forever from their home, after all the flimsy and foolhardy machines you've commissioned from me for the last twelve blasted years! Oh, and have you ever considered the possibility that this thing _does_ explode? Oh, certainly, even with _my_ talent, there's a possibility of _grave error!_ What about grievous bodily harm, or, dare I say, the SWEET EMBRACE OF DEATH?!"

The group had watched this tirade unfold, a tirade that spiralled into some cartoonish caricature of human behavior, something both the Eds and Kankers had gotten good at. But, Roy was out of patience.

"Look, man, you wanna buy or not?"

An unspoken glance went between Double D and the four-eyed freak, and then between he and Eddy. Eyes turned to the jug of foul moonshine, and then back to Roy, with a poker face that'd make any card shark proud. With a subtle nod, he grunted his response.

"Can you get us two jugs by six tonight?"

"You kiddin'? I got a whole bunch stockpiled in an old well. I'll take eighty for the pair?"

Eddy sat silent. Ed felt it necessary to comment.

"It looks like water, Eddy.."

That it did, but it tasted great. He and his buddies had gotten wasted after graduation on it, and never went blind. If this stuff was as good a quality as it was potent, he'd be a big hit at the party. Favors, acceptance, stardom- all would be within reach, if only he closed the deal with good booze. Besides, the kids'd smell it from a mile away.

"You know what, Roy? You got a deal." He forked out for twenties, and the guy eagerly took it. "Now, if you could just help us load this stuff up, it'd be great…"

The seven of them piled out of the cellar, and went there separate ways. The girls went up to their trailer to get ready, while the Eds hung back to bullshit about the intricacies of making whiskey- well, Ed and Eddy did. Double D kept his distance. They all walked together up the old driveway, Edd sidling behind as he listened with disgust. His two best friends, listening to that creep Parnelli, hanging on his every word as he talked his slick wannabe greaser speak. They'd never given _him_ a chance when he described _his_ projects. But, then again, his projects never got them wasted.

"You got many customers?" Eddy could see the moneymaking potential already.

"Nah, man," Roy oiled, "This stuff' only for friends and family. You three my first sale."

"No kidding?"

"Nope. started doin' this with a buddy of mine a few years back. He's really hip on this homesteading stuff, a real back-to-nature type. Bald kid, wears sandles- good guy, though."

Eddy snorted. "Oh, don't tell me, _Jonny_ was back here?"

Roy's eyes lit up. "The same! You know 'im, don't you? He's from your neighborhood, I think!"

Eddy shrugged. "Yeah, he used to be around here all the time. He'd be out in the lane, either pissin' Sarah and Jimmy off, helpin' Rolf with something, or even off, doing his own thing! Had this board he carried around when we were younger…. Haven't seen much of him lately."

Roy nodded. "Yeah, he stopped comin' 'round the start of last school year. Real abrupt… but, I kept seein' him at school! He'd talk to ya, really friendly too! But, man, there wasn't the same shine to the guy, the same-"

Arms outstretched, stopping the Eds in their path. Ed unbalanced Roy and he fell in the dirt while Double D snickered covertly. Eddy, who'd gotten a greasy mitt in his face, was less than pleased.

"Man, what's the hold-up?"

Roy doubled the displeasure by cupping that hand over Eddy's mouth. The free one gestured to their van, visible through the trees- and a blue Plymouth that lay beyond it, barely visible.

"Somebody's following you."


	5. Chapter 5

The four lay in a bush, watching the blue unmarked. Ed stuck out, surveying the terrain. You see, Double D, genius that he is, happened to find some copper tubing and two lenses. In about five minutes, he had a working spyglass!

"Yup," Ed confirmed, "They're cops."

Roy tugged his coatsleeve. "Can I have the lenses to my glasses back now? I can't see three feet in front'a me.."

Double D let out a whimper. "It's the end of the line, gentlemen. We haven't a chance…"

Ed gave Sockhead's well-... _sock-head_ a pat."Aw, c'mon, Double D, it's only one car… and nobody's even in it! See?"

Eddy, who had begun reading an article titled, "How To Represent Yourself in Court" on his phone, looked up abruptly. "Then, where are they..?"

"Combing the woods for us, no doubt…" Double D curled up and began to rock himself.

"Y'know, Eddward, if you weren't so scared, I'd've thought you set me up." Roy growled, and snatched the spyglass back, trying to disassemble it. He couldn't see jack without his glasses.

"If anyone set us up," Eddy suggested, "It'd be those dirty Kanker bitches… They got a grudge with us that goes way back."

Roy popped a lense loose, and began to wrestle to get it back in his frame. "Yeah… but, they wouldn't set you to jail. They care too much about you guys."

"Care? They slammed a door on Sockhead's foot, how's that for caring?"

"It looks like a diving fin," Ed agreed, giving Double D's loafer a poke, "They are mean ones, that is for sure-tain!"

Roy snarled as his second lense fell in the mud. "They ain't _that_ mean; I mean, I've lived next to 'em for three years, I should know! You live with a person, you mow their lawn, you… really get a feel for 'em, you know?... A-and, you realize, like… It's all relative! Y'know?"

Parnelli had refused to look them in the eye while making his little speech, and sort of shrunk away into himself. If he felt he'd said too much, then he was probably right, as the Eds were all eyeing him differently; as if he'd said, "Hey, boys! Let's go blow up a courthouse!", or something to that effect.

"The difference between you and us," Eddy hissed, "Is you didn't have 'em breakin' into your house once a week in the summer…"

Roy didn't respond at first, looking away and mumbling something. At last, he'd repaired his glasses and began to wipe them clean with an equally-dirty shirttail. "...Alright, so they _are_ that mean. But, if they wanted to get at you, they'd key your car, or leave flaming dogshit on your front stoop, or… or jump you, or something. They wouldn't call the cops." He brought his specs to his face, only to be met by an even blurrier sight, and groaned.

Ed, who was still watching the blue Plymouth for movement, scratched his stubbly chin. "Then, I don't geddit… Who would call the cops on us?"

Double D croaked through a hitching breath. "Isn't it obvious…? The one person we've been a thorn in the side of for years… Harassing, taking advantage of, looting repeatedly…"

Eddy blinked, taking only a second to process this remark. "...that kid Scoot?"

A muddied hand drug over Edd's face. " _No,_ Eddy, Em-"

A twig snapped nearby, and Sockhead clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp. Eddy and Roy, who'd been sitting up, hit the dirt, trying to stay low in the shrubbery. Ed, a little too slow to notice, had to be pulled down to join them, and he landed with a _whump_ that shook the ground.

Another rustle came nearby, a little farther away, and none dared to breathe. The air was charged with unspoken tension. Roy gestured discreetly to the Eds to get their attention, and breathed a message.

"They're _close_..."

Edd hiccupped and clutched his chest, rasping harsh. Ed came close and his lower lip trembled, eyes growing wide.

"What's wrong, Double D?!"

This was met with a loud 'SHHHH' from Eddy and Roy each.

"I.. I think I'm having a heart attack…"

The noise had alerted them, and the rustling grew closer. A grumbling could be heard now, distinctly female.

"Don't be a pussy, sockhead.." Eddy drew close, looking Edd over. To be frank, his buddy didn't look too hot. Profuse sweating, trembling, breathing coming fast and shallow. No, it didn't look like a heart attack- It looked more like a panic attack.

"I think he needs help, Eddy…" Ed murmured, so as not to alert their pursuers. This was appreciated by all.

Double D hacked and choked, eyes bugged out wide. "I… I don't want to go… to jail... n-not… again.."

Feeling uncomfortable, Eddy tried to comfort his friend with a pat on the back. Touching another guy like this was new to him, and in that euphemism lay the problem. Surely, given the circumstances, Roy and Ed wouldn't think of him any less for comforting a friend, but if this got out, it'd have been headline news at school.

But they weren't in school anymore, were they? They were free. Free to do what they pleased with themselves, free from the social group that held them together through school years. Free to leave Peach Creek and do what they wanted with their lives. Rumors be damned. Double D was in trouble, and it wasn't like they could get his counselor on the phone. No bars at all, and to move would mean a ride out of the park in the back of a squad car.

Mustering some courage, Eddy put an arm around Double D, and tried to reassure him.

"Hey… Hey, Double D, don't _worry,_ man!" He propped up a small smile. "Hey, they won't get us..!"

Double D looked up, tears streaking a face filthy from their stay in the bush. "Yes… Yes, they _will.._ "

"Nah, man!... They're here for me and Ed!... You weren't the one who stole the stuff, right?... You stayed in the van!"

"I.. I did, didn't I…?" Nevermind the possible charge as an accomplice. In his current state, Sockhead did _not_ need to hear it- And perhaps he knew it. But, he felt a little better nevertheless.. "And… And what ab-bout… you… two…?"

Eddy tried to put on a brave face. "Don't worry, man, I've been to jail before!... It's like a bad hotel, I could hack it!... Better yet, me an' Lumpy'd just dig ourselves out! Right, Ed..?"

Ed grinned wide and nodded enthusiastically. He was cut short by an approaching shuffle, only about a foot from them. But, Sockhead, gazing up at Eddy with a brave smile, didn't hear.

"N-no… Certainly… not, my… good man.." He whistled this message, through a locked throat- practically through his teeth. "..I-if one of us is t-to be c-caught… then it shall be… all.. Of us… A h-house divided cannot stand.. A-and, after all we've… been through, I'd…. dare say we'd be f-fools...to… split up now…."

"We'll be the jailbirds three," Ed concurred, "Eddy'll be the tough one, who beats other guys up… and you'll be the smart one, who plans our escape to Necron-99, and I'll be the funny one with the song and dance number in the third act!"

All three snickered. What a lark, what a yuk, what a fucking predicament to be stuck in. Cornered in the woods, facing misdemeanors and maybe a year in the can- For Edd, his second brush with the law; for Eddy, his third. God, what they'd do to him. But, what would they do to Roy? That is, if they found his still.

And Roy sensed that too; it was either try to leave and get caught in a shoplifting case, or let them comb the woods, find the burnt house, and discover his still- a contraption that had become his prime hobby after the street racing scene got broken up by the cops last Spring..

"Gah, this is ridiculous," he growled, and produced a small blade. "I'm gonna go take a look."

Eddy broke from the group hug to look him over dubiously. "That's a pocket-knife."

"Yeah, well, it beats what you're carrying!"

"I ain't carryin' a knife."

" _Exactly_ … You just stay put, and I'm gonna try and find a way out…"

There was no noise from outside now; whoever had been following them was right outside, waiting. She had heard them, and was poised to investigate. Her ears could hear their whispers from a mile away, some desperate kids it sounded like. But, when a pale, lanky shape in glasses stuck its face out of the bush, she flattened herself to the ground, glaring back with eyes filled with fear and malice.

"...So," Eddy breathed, "Are they there…?"

"Outta sight," Roy mumbled breathlessly; that wasn't a good enough answer for Double D, who began to wrestle his way out of his friends, moaning defeat.

"WE SURRENDER, WE SURRENDER, GOD IN HEAVEN, WE ARE _SORRY!_ "

Startled, she slashed Roy in the face five times, and he let out a blood-curdling wail that sent the birds overhead into flight. The loud noise had scared the everloving shit out of her, and now a second shape loomed over her. Weird things, otherworldly things were happening here- things she wanted no part of. And so, she turned and fled into the bushes, dashing as fast as she could away from these mad monsters.

The Eds righted themselves and turned to Roy, who was holding his face in his hands and hissing. They had missed the whole thing.

"God… fuckin' Jesus, Mary and Joseph!... Rotten anteater _shit!_ It got me in the _face,_ man!..." Red streaks ran amid the kid's acne, dripping down his goatee. Slash-marks across his face from little razor-sharp claws.

Double D turned to face him, and recoiled with a gasp. "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

He sucked in breath, groaning. "You chicken-shits, it wasn't a cop!..."

Eddy gave him a purplexed glance. "It wasn't?"

" _Hell_ no, would a cop do _this_?!"

"Maniac Cop would," Ed reasoned.

"Well, it _wasn't_ Maniac Cop! It was a bobcat!"

Double D was slowly catching his breath. "...A bobcat…?"

"Yeah, _Vincent,_ a bobcat! _Lynx rufus_! And your little pity-party scared the bejesus out of it!... Jeez, man, this really _hurts…!_ "

Eddy breathed a sigh of relief. "Whooh! That God for that; I thought I was gettin' thrown in a cell tonight for _sure…_ "

"Well, you ain't outta the woods yet," Roy sneered.

Eddy took it seriously. ".. Yeah, no kidding."

Double D gestured to the blue unmarked cruiser, still visible through the trees. "These lawmen are probably still out and about.. They could still be looking for us. Why, I-..."

And then a peculiar thought hit him.

"...Roy, are you sure that's an unmarked cruiser?"

"Sure," he grumbled, trying to wipe a streak of blood off the inside of his glasses, "Who else owns a base Plymouth Fury, other than old folks?" However, Ed snatched them away from him, and began to reassemble his contraption. "Hey, man, what gives?"

Carefully, Edd scanned the car, looking for signs of its officiality, and he let out a great sigh. It was as if all the tension in Sockhead's body suddenly ran out of him, and he slumped to the floor. He'd dropped the spyglass first, and under the weight of his torso, flattened the copper exoskeleton of it. With a tinkle of broken glass, Roy's lenses were obliterated.

Eddy lurched forward, and grabbed Double D's coat. "S-sockhead?... Double D, what's up?!"

"Wire wheels," Dee mumbled."

"...What?"

"Police cruisers don't have wire wheels… They're not… on the fleet model... Furies…" He let out a last, pathetic hiccup, and closed his eyes in a dead faint.

The two who were still conscious turned to Roy, as if to confirm. Under their blurry scrutiny, the kid shrank back, tugging at his collar.

"Well, ah," he stammered, "He's right... " He would have hated to admit it, but under the circumstances, he was elated. "I… might'a jumped the gun when I said you were bein' followed… Maybe it's just some grandma, visitin' the park..?"

And Eddy joined his friend on the floor- exhausted, all the energy run out of him. But, thankfully not down his legs.

He awoke to the sound of long-dead rockstars, in a lush palm treeline. Flamingos waded in the sea, with a setting sun dramatically in the distance. It was an island paradise like you'd see on the television- Some Hawaii 5-0 intro stuff; almost mythic, probably never real in the first place.

"...B-...Buddy Holly…?"

Roy was looming over him, a spare pair of glasses adorning his face, and Eddy regained his senses. He stood up straight, and found he was inside the mobile home. These lurid images were a wallpaper that screamed Jimmy Buffet. The carpet was a neon purple shag that his socks sunk into.

"What'd you do t'my shoes…?"

"I didn't do a thing," he insisted, "But Mr. Perfectionist put 'em by the door when he woke up. That was about a half hour ago.."

And, as if on cue, Double D came rushing down a hall, Ed in tow. "Eddy, thank heavens you're alright!.. I'd dare say I have a concussion from that fall I took.." He put a skinny hand to his little buddy's jawline, looking into his eyes. "Are you alright? How do you feel? How many fingers am I-"

Eddy shook him off, grumbling. "I'm _fine_ , I'm fine, _sheesh_ … what time's it, anyways?" 

"Ooh! Ooh! I got this one!" Ed produced from his pocket a battered, beaten and abused flip-phone, and swiped his thumb to open it up. It was covered in fruit-stickers, for some reason not worth elaborating upon. "It is currently Six-One-Five-Pem! Am I slick or what?"

Eddy's adrenaline surged. "SIX-FIFTEEN?! We gotta get this show on the road!"

Double D stammered a rebuttal "B-but… all that camaraderie! I thought we agreed we didn't need to impress them! That, all the friends we needed were each other!"

"I never said that."

"But… But, it was _implied!_ My Lord, the… the passion, the… the camaraderie! Does that mean anything to you?"

"No thanks," shouted Ed, presenting his driver's license, "I'm straight!"

Eddy gave him a glare. "Sockhead, when I make a promise, I see it through. You know that!"

"Not necessarily, you usually ask for favors, promise to repay them, and feign ignorance when confronted as to why you haven't!"

"Yeah, well… well, not anymore!"

Edd rubbed his head; he had ice on it, Eddy had just noticed. "But, what about my concussion…?"

"Don't worry about it, Double D! Take some advil and drink it off! This'll be the night of our lives!" He turned to Roy, who flinched under such an intense look from such a little, bulldoggish kinda guy as Eddy. "You! Where's your well?"

"Around by the back of the park," he reported.

"Can you show us?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course.. Just bring your van around, I don't want people seein' this."

Eddy shook his hand tight. "You got it, stretch! C'mon boys, let's get this show on the road!"

In his haste, he stumbled over a coffee table, barking his shin with a yelp. But, he didn't stop moving, and just wriggled himself through the carpet until he could get up and stand again. He shot for the door, putting his shoes on the wrong feet, and threw the flimsy tin thing open, taking off like a shot with Ed galloping along behind, and Double D, tottering under the weight of his ice, bringing up the rear. More leisurely, Roy strolled out, closing the door behind them, and headed down the dirt in the opposite direction.

The trio exploded out into the open, dashing like mad for the Van. Lee, Marie and May could see them approaching, dressed in their starchy church clothes, and watched with a subdued placidity they hardly revealed.

"Y'think they still got feelin's?" Marie wondered aloud.

"Yeah," Lee grunted, "Least, Eddy's got feelin's f'me. You stick 'ta Double D next time."

Marie cracked a knuckle. "Ain't you ever gonna get over that?"

"Not any time soon."

"Good! Just like I won't forget about how you slept with that moldy-ass teddy bear 'til you were fifteen!"

"That was _May's bear,_ " she snarled, "Don't go startin' shit, Marie!"

May sighed, caught up in her own little world. "D'you think Ed's screenplays will make it big…? He wrote this story once, where this guy and this vampire girl meet, and…"

But the boys had nearly forgotten about the Kanker Sisters- because, when they came stampeding up the drive, they were confronted by the blue Plymouth.

Whether or not had been empty before, it wasn't now. Its headlights pinned them to the road, and its engine roared into life. A spotlight affixed to the driver's side- obscured from their view- shone into the depths of their souls, casting them in a white beacon like an alien tractor-beam.

A window rolled down, and some unseen entity hollered at them above the roar of the engine.

"Awright, hold it right thar!"

They screamed some tritone like a train, and ran scurrying back from whence they came, abandoning the van and the girls as the unmarked charged after them, kicking mud all over the Kankers and their trailer.

Lee's blood boiled. "...What's _'dis_ crap?"

"They're running from us again," sobbed May, "Just like prom!"

"Are you two blind?" Marie howled tempestuously, "Somebody's goin' after them! And I dunno about you two, but I ain't seen a car chase in like three years!" Forgetting civility or the range of motion she lacked, she leapt off the front stoop and went cannonballing after them. "I'm gonna go watch!"

"Marie, don't leave me here!" May took off in chase.

"This ought t'be good." And so did Lee.

Double D's lungs ached from running, his foot hurt from being slammed in a door. His icebag kept slipping off his head, and his shorts kept threatening to slip down. He was coming apart at the seams, and he began to drag behind.. He could hear the whoosh of the Plymouth's big, ducted radiator fan as its massive grille hovered less than a foot behind him.

"I'm a lost cause, fellows!" he wailed at the top of his lungs, "Go on without me! Save yoursel-"

But, Ed had a better idea. The big lug slung his scrawny friend over his back, and broke into an inhuman gallop on all fours, scooping up Eddy, who too was fading fast. As they bore down on Roy, his pupils grew huge and dilated at the sight of his odd chase, and he tried to drop the jug he was holding and run- Though Ed snatched him up too, and grabbed the two huge containers in his _teeth._ How's that for superhuman?!

Roy's mouth worked silently as he gestured to the car, then to the Eds, then specifically to Eddy, who was riding Ed like a horse while he in turn bounced along in back of him, holding Double D bridal style. "Wh...WHERE THE HELL'S THE VAN?!"

"Change of plan, buddy-boy!" Eddy let loose a wild howl of laughter. "We're takin' your car!"

"But, my plates! The-... What if they catch me carrying moonshine?!"

"You own… the fastest car… in the County," Double D wheezed, "If not… the most haphazardly… constructed…. They shan't catch us… if they had _wings_!"

"But, it _ain't_ the fastest!" he protested, "It ain't even fastest in town! I get walked by everybody!"

"Then let's hope your driving's good!" Eddy grinned wide, and offered him a hand, which he gladly took. "LUMPY, get us a short-cut!"

Roaring, Ed dashed into a yard and squeezed them between to trailers. The Fury skidded sideways, coming to rest blocking the narrow road. Bickering amongst each other, the two occupants attempted to turn around, but backed the boat of a car through somebody's picket fence, and had to face an angry old hag in a bathrobe as she hurled dishes at their trunk. Meanwhile, Ed leapt onto a trampoline, which shot them right into the rooftops of the park. He dashed like a madman, leaping over the road and giving the Kankers below a wave and a barrel-roll.

Lee had had just about enough. "Hey… Hey, you get back 'ere an' court us like gennlemen! What about our deal? What about _chivalry?!_ Eddy, when I get my hands on you, I swear I'm gonna…"

His friends on his back shrieked like schoolgirls as this mad ride played out, and were thanking their respective gods when he finally skidded to a halt in Roy's yard, uprooting three flamingos and depositing them next to the Chevelle. His job done, Ed opened his jaw wide, letting the two plastic kegs tumble out, and snapped it shut with a ferocious noise.

"...End 'a the line," he mumbled, and righted himself, dropping the three riders off.

Eddy was first to get up.

"QUICK! THE KEYS!"

Roy fumbled in his pocket for them, only to find there were none. "AaAaAaH, _shit_! They're inside!"

The three hollered back in unison the obvious. "THEN GO GET 'EM!"

"Alright, alright!... It's unlocked, everybody get in!"

Eddy skittered through an open window; Double D gingerly opened the passenger-side door to let Ed in, but Ed picked him up and threw in into the backseat, pitching him the two jugs with two tremendous grunts, before piling in next to Eddy and slamming the door so hard it rocked the car. Elsewhere in the park, they could hear tires kicking up gravel and arguing, and knew the Plymouth was still trying for them.

Roy tumbled down the steps, nearly tripping himself as he tap-danced his way to the turf. The three were shouting incoherently for him to get in, when heavy winds rolled in. The wind was picking up dirt and dust, sending it swirling through the trailers like a Saharan sandstorm. But, through the dust they saw four saucer suns- the eyes of The Man's fury- The man's _Plymouth Fury,_ a gargantuan, pompous car driven by cops and those who saluted cops on the freeway.

Roy slid across the hood and fell on his face, opening up his cuts again with a yelp. Getting to his feet, he tried to follow Eddy's lead, but ran into the pane of glass, failing to shatter it- That's right, the window didn't roll down on that side. The Fury's headlights grew ever-nearer, prowling through the dust. Its searchlight probed the yards of the trailers, like the Martian heat-ray from _War of The Worlds_. All the while Roy struggled to get in, finding the door was locked. Finally, with Eddy yanking the skull-shaped knob of the doorlock right off, he threw open the door, slid behind the wheel, and keyed the motor.

For a few seconds, all breath was held. The Chevelle cranked and cranked, the starter whining and whining. Then, suddenly, it caught. The exhaust barked, the engine sputtered, and grew into a sound like rolling thunder, lightning crashing as it revved. Roy slammed it into gear, and the big back tires threw gravel all over, the car launching hard with a lunge backwards. They went sliding sideways and took out the community mailboxes before the steering straightened, and they rocketed right down the main gravel promenade, through this apocalyptic storm straight out of Dune. A chicken from somebody's yard flew up and over the hood of the Chevy, and Ed guffawed, seemingly unaware of the danger. They hit a dip in the road and the car left the ground for a split-second, landing hand and throwing the boys down in their seats.

Eddy, who hadn't bucked up- typical- had been sent into the headliner with a grunt. "JESUS CHRIST, CAN YOU DRIVE ANY FUCKIN' FASTER?!"

"We're in a _car chase,_ Scarsella! The idea's to, like, _get away_ from the bad guys!"

"Parnelli," Edd shrieked, "If you'd be so foolish as to hit a telephone pole and kill us all, I will personally see to it that you _don't_ go to Heaven- if there is such a thing!"

"Like you got the golden key t'the Crapper yourself! I know about your little dirty bomb scheme!"

"It was a DIORAMA of a POWER PLANT!"

Ed called out, drowning the two out completely. "They're right behind us!"

Indeed, the Fury hadn't been shaken. The blue sedan, now caked with dust, was bombing up the driveway behind them, bucking and scraping and ploughing through mud. They saw not the men inside, but only the highbeams and glinting grill, growing ever-nearer.

"Why aren't we losin' 'em?!" Eddy wailed, "They're still right on us!"

"We gotta get on the pavement," Roy called over, "The slicks aren't getting any traction!"

The bumper of the Fury made contact with them, and the Chevelle slid sideways, the Eds screaming. Their back bumper clipped a tree, and sent them sliding the other way. Roy was barely able to correct steering before they sideswiped the Park 'n flush sign, sending it tumbling down, the Fury barely making it before the metal signage hit the ground with a dull thud. This didn't deter their pursuers, and blue sedan screamed up behind at Mach 2 and rammed again, harder.

"IT _IS_ MANIAC COP!" Eddy howled, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

All three embraced as the Fury gave them another jolt. They all went airborne as the Chevelle hit another dip, and sailed a clean twelve feet before landing on the street. All the Eds lay sprawled in a heap in the backseat as the car began to pick up speed, beginning to pull away from their automotive assailants. Jeez, that didn't sounds as good as I thought it would.

"H-...Ha!... So long, slick!" Eddy shouted out the rear window. He gave the middle finger, blew raspberries, and did whatever he damn well felt to the cops, because they were on their way out. Then, Roy put the car into a drift, and Ed had to snatch him by his beltloops to keep him from tumbling out the open passenger window.

The Chevelle kinked left, and shot down an alleyway, knocking over every trash can along the way. The cops behind had mashed the pedal to the floor to keep up, and were doing better than eighty miles an hour when they made the turn. The big car's brake drums smoked red hot and the suspension swayed, but they overshot the alley and stopped in the middle of a four-way intersection, amid a chorus of honking horns. The driver nailed the gas and put the car around in a massive burnout. Meanwhile, the yellow Malibu was put through a dizzying maze of back-alleys, suburban streets, main roads and thoroughfares until they hit Figueroa again. The Fury was no longer in sight, and all four breathed a sigh of relief. If all was well, the Fury had gotten lost somewhere in the houses, and was probably cruising around with its searchlight on, looking for them in the countless garages and grassy side-streets.

"Okay," Eddy panted, "Alright… We lost 'em. Now what?"

Roy glanced in the rear-view, thrumming the tiny racing steering wheel he'd insisted on putting on his car. "Ah, we, uh… We park up somewhere and wait this out…"

"Park up? But, what about the party?"

Roy gave him a glance, the car swerving. "Man, we were just in a police chase, and you're still worried about that party? If I get caught with this stuff, then I'm going to jail for-... for-... bootlegging, or something!"

Eddy glowered in his seat, as the car pulled into a convenience store parking lot, and drove around back. Roy shut the motor off, and let his head on the steering-wheel, sniffling a little.

"We're _all_ screwed, man!... Not just you and your buddies… We better start pourin' this shit out, 'cause when we all go home tonight? They'll be talkin' to our parents about how we evaded custody!.."

Double D produced a handkerchief, and Roy snatched it away, blowing into it loud. In some odd way, he was past fretting over the punishment, and now wondered about Parnelli. For whatever reason, he thought of others, even before himself! Why else would he have stuck with Eddy, after all the scams and snowjobs had gotten him were exile from the neighborhood and stern stickynotes from his parents? An eye went to the moonshine, lying on the floor by Ed's feet. A shame for it to go to waste, really- a man's handiwork, his craft. Whiskey was a romantic thing, he supposed- in the vein of all great Robin Hood heroes.

And then an idea struck him.

"Say, fellows! I know where we are!"

Eddy didn't move. "Yeah, no shit, Sockhead. We're behind the Supa Save on Figueroa and Rethink."

"We're only five blocks away from our houses, are we not?" A grin was growing on his pale little face, and Ed mimicked it, wide and goofy.

"You guys, maybe, but they'll catch me for sure if I go home." Roy sobbed loud, and laid on the horn button for a solid three seconds before noticing. "Ah-... s-sorry.. The point is, those guys probably got backup on the way… The moment we try and get outta here, they'll nail our balls to the wall…"

Double D, feeling bolder, but his hand on Roy and Eddy's shoulders. Both flinched, both looked up at him."Oh, nonsense!... Roy, did you not brag incessantly about your skill as a mechanic? Is this car's performance not mythic? For instance, how fast can you run a quarter mile?"

"Like… low fourteens, if I'm honest…"

Sockhead, feeling gutsy, grabbed the key in the ignition and gingerly turned it. Starting with a huff, the Chevelle began to idle, loud and lopsided.

"Well, according to the surveys I'd taken in Senior Year, testing the accuracy of the odometer of my classmates' automobiles, we are approximately…. A quarter-mile from the party. Taking into account the various stopsigns and suburban hazards, could you make this trip in, say, thirty seconds?"

Roy looked away, rubbing his goatee. "..Well, yeah, but.. What if they pick us up on the way? If they find us, we'll still have the shine on us…"

Eddy had a little brain-blast of his own. "Not if the guys at the party drink it!"

He reached for a high-five, and Edd took it, wincing only slightly at the sting to his palm. "Exactly!... Thus, destroying the evidence… assuming they don't find the still, of course."

Roy's head spun. "Now, hold on a minute!... What if they cruise down the block and spot my car in front'a this Kevin guy's house? What if they find me when I get home?!"

"Already covered, buddy!" Ed foghorned, slapping Roy on the back with a hollow thud, "My parents are at my aunt's for the week! You can crash at Ice Station Ed, and put your car in the garage!"

The lanky Parnelli kid rubbed the small of his back, nodding. "And if the cops break up the party..?"

Eddy leered at him. "... Then Kevin gets caught with the moonshine!"

For a beat, silence, and then soft laughter. He was warming up to them."Yeah… Yeah, that might work… But, what about afterwards? What if they called for backup? What if-"

Eddy was feeling enthusiastic, and cut him off. "Oh, we'll burn those bridges when we get to 'em. Take a chance, Roy! For trailer-trash, you really don't take many risks…"

"H-hey, man, I just don't wanna go to jail!" There was a hint of tension in that voice. A little defensive, was he? "But, I'll do it.. Just- Just know, whatever you guys did to bring 'em here, I'll rat you right the hell out if this goes wrong!"

Double D met his gaze levelly. "We'd do just the same to you."

"How about you just get us over there already?" Eddy slipped a twenty his way, and Roy gladly took it.

Ed dashed ahead, leaning around the corner. Easing back, he motioned for the others, and the Chevelle rolled out into the sun. Its cream yellow point was caked with dirt up to the windows, but the paint still shined underneath the mud and dust. Lumpy piled back in, and they rolled to the curb, stopping. Roy hesitated, his grip tightening on the wheel.

It was all clear. Time to go.

He eased out into traffic, turning right.

Eddy scoffed. "Nice drivin', gentle touch, how about you-"

They heard the clunk as his wingtip hit the floor. The engine faltered for a split-second and the tires turned to smoke. The car rocked back on the rear axle, throwing them all back, and the nose raised skyward. The power of the start damn near lifted the front wheels off the ground, that's what they all swore at the party later. Regardless, the revs climbed, the engine's roar turning into a scream, and the houses and sideway turned to a blur. Double D held tight as the Chevy tore through an intersection, Roy letting off only a little.

"W-GOOD LORD MAN, OBEY THE SPEED LIMIT!" The irony of this, after all they'd been through, was lost on the boys.

Roy's teeth were showing in a madman's grin, his knuckles blue on the wheel. "TIME ME, VINCENT!"

"Wh-WHAT?" The sound of the exhaust was deafening, and Edd put his hands to his ears. Eddy had finally fastened his seatbelt and put a hand over his face as they nearly clipped a Honda in the second intersection. Ed couldn't look away, he couldn't process it all, it was just a blur.

Meanwhile, Roy rambled on and on to himself; counting, counting what?

"One.. two… three..."

Through another stop sign; this intersection was empty.

"Four, five.."

Everything a blur, light speed, critical mass, Mach 7 on a journey to the son, a viking funeral for a small block, they hit another intersection, they couldn't see a thing.

"Six…..seven…"

It was seven.

Most of Kevin's guests were there. He'd invited anyone and everyone he could find. Old friends, his fathers' work buddies' kids, military brats, the rich kids from the private development cross town- Even some high schoolers from Lemon Brook had come, mingling freely with their Peach Creek rivals free of malice. It was as if once one had graduated, the old school grudges started to slip away. After all, it seemed so silly now, and he couldn't help but give the Lumpers credit for some of those dynamite plays that'd kicked the Cobblers' asses.

But, Kevin's calm demeanor belied his impatience. The "Refreshments" he'd managed were a metric shit-ton of chips and some Mexican soda somebody had left on the curb. Hot-dogs and burgers sizzled, a little weed was blazed in the backyard, but no alcohol at all. He'd considered texting Eddy, but decided against it.

 _They wanna play that shit? Fine. I ain't gonna chase after them._

He'd been out back, gabbing with a Lumpers linebacker, when Nazz picked her way through the crowd- She was calm, but there was an air of urgency in her walk.

"..Hey… Hey, Kev?"

Kevin opened his arms, hoping she'd snuggle up and show the Lumper how close they were. "Hey, babe! What's up?"

She kept glancing toward the gate, which, now that he noticed, was in the process of being pounded in by some brute force. "We got a problem…"

"God dammit, what now?" He practically threw his Coke all over the Lumper, and stormed his way over, throwing it open. From the street, out spilled three Kankers, looking like they'd gone to Sunday mass at the bottom of a sinkhole.

"W...What th'hell're you three doin' here?!"

Marie grabbed his arm and pulled herself up; Kevin recoiled at her touch, it was oily and dirty, caked with a thousand oil-changes. "Don't be stupid," she chirped, "The Eds invited us!"

"The Eds?" His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms. "They ain't here."

"That's bullshit, shovel-head." Lee stepped forward, rolling up the sleeve of her ruined blouse. "They took off with that Parnelli freak, on their way 'ta your party. Either they wrecked out on the way, or they're here." No mention of the car chase, he didn't need to hear about that.

Shovel-chin couldn't think too fast, or he'd get a headache. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "The kid with the Malibu?"

"D'same."

"What's he got t'do with this? They were s'pposed t'get beer, and they're out draggin' with some trailer-trash prick?"

May waved a clenched fist, practically shrieking. "You watch'er mouth, snapback, _we're_ trailer-trash!"

"An' proud of it," agreed Marie.

Lee took a step forward. "You wanna make somethin' of it?"

This scene had begun to draw a crowd, a steady murmur began to rise as they surrounded the Kankers. Kevin was backed against a wall of eyes. A physical barrier, a social barrier. He couldn't run away, he couldn't hit 'em. Phones were out, they were recording. What would happen?

But, above the growing chant of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" They heard the sound of a big motor- a V8, it sounded like- groaning as it eased off the gas, fast-approaching and loud. All eyes turned to the Cul-de-sac as a yellow '72 Chevy covered Holley stickers came careening to a halt, brakes whining, in the middle of the street. The passenger door flung open, and out scrambled Ed, Edd and Eddy, scampering over to the house as the car rolled up the street to Ed's house and into the driveway without even stopping. They were filthy, beaten, covered in mud and twigs and leaves. Eddy looked like he had a black eye forming, Ed's coat was torn in three places. Double D had an ice-bag bigger than his head strapped to his skull. It seemed they'd been through a bit to get the goods.

The crowd gazed in bewildered awe as Ed produced from his coat two five-gallon jugs of a clear liquid, and presented them to Kevin.

"The refreshments have arrived!" he proclaimed.

Some pointdexter from Seawall Junior High idled up, looking Ed over. "Now, whadd'ya think you're try'na do, mister?... That ain't beer!... Hey, that looks like, creekwater! Am I right, fellas?"

A few murmured in agreement, and Kevin uttered a low grumble.

The pointdexter began to circle the trio, gesturing with his arms.

"I didn't lie to my parents, steal eighty bucks, take the bus out here and rent an AirBnB to drink a bunch of grody malarkey like that!.. I came here t'piss myself an' pass out in somebody's pool!"

Eddy met the irate customer with his usual suave swagger- something he mainly used on girls, but could conjure up to close a deal. He gave the guy a gentle sock to the shoulder, laughed and put his arm around him, leading him to the jug. "Kid, kid, please. This ain't beer."

"No, shit," agreed Lee, "Ain't you idiots ever seen a batch of moonshine before?"

Silence greeted this.

"Moonshine?" Nazz pondered aloud, "Like.. like, whiskey?"

"The very same!" Double D nodded to confirm this, stepping between Eddy and the nerd. "My good man, this is some of the best Peach Creek has to offer! Sure to become the new focal point of every gathering imaginable! A more delightful drink has yet to be invented, as none surpass it in its flavor… and _potency_!"

A few of the crowd were smiling now, an excited buzz of talk in the air; they were winning them.

Ed held out a jug, and Eddy took it; the shit was heavy, and he strained to hold it, before Ed simply took it back again, unphased. "My man, this is some of the best hooch you'll ever try.. So what if it looks a little rough? Taste it!"

The Pointdexter, in over his head, gingerly craned his neck over the bottle, opened the gigantic wine cork that'd been keeping it shut, and sniffed. The smell of alcohol made him reel, and he staggered back, face flushing red. "N-n-no thanks, I'm good… I'm good…" And he scampered back into the awestruck crowd.

Eddy chuckled. "A lightweight, folks, that's what our buddy there is.. Would any of you tougher guys like a taste?"

He'd expected Rolf to appear; Rolf's liver was fortified like Montecassino. Drinking tainted liquor wasn't just a bragging right for him, it was a hobby. So, when Jimmy stepped forward in a plain-looking polo shirt and with an apprehensive Sarah at his side, Eddy _was_ impressed.

" _I'll_ try it!"

The crowd rippled in shock, a gasp going out among some. Jimmy looked to Kevin for reassurance, and, surprisingly, he gave a thumbs-up.

"Go for it, Fluffy!"

Ed tipped the jug, and Jimmy took a little sip, swallowing with a gulp. He twitched slightly, and fell into Sarah's arms with a swoon. All piled around, desperate to see what was next, as Ed's little sis shook him silly, trying to get any response out of the guy. Roy, who was making his way over after parking his car, couldn't see into the knot of people, and wondered what had happened. Some eyes were on the Eds, narrowing. Not all the kids here knew Jimmy and his weak stomach. What did they think?

At last, he raised his head weakly, a twitching smile on his lips.

"J-Jimmy?" Sarah stammered, "Are you alright….?"

A long pause.

A pause for eternity.

And, then, a giggle!

"It's _wonderful,_ Sarah!"

The crowd howled, and the partygoers clammorred for a sip of the brew. Ed had to hold the jugs over his head, as the three picked their way into the backyard.

"People, people," called Kevin, practically leading this procession through the throngs of partygoers, "There's enough for everybody!"

Drink flowed, music cranked, spirits grew higher and higher on that afternoon. Old friends recollected, shared memories of summers past, and talked of days yet to come. The Eds had earned their favor, but forgotten it in the festivities. The Kankers mingled among a wider variety of men then they'd seen in their life. Roy Parnelli stood to the side talking cars with a few out-of-towners, and was suggested a new junkyard that specialized in old General Motors rides. All was right in the world. Nobody worried what would become of the van, or what would happen if the police came- And they never did. This was golden youth, fleeting and mythical. This was the shindig they'd remember forever. For some, this was the peak, the pinnacle. For others more fortunate, it was the beginning of greater things.

The party went on for hours, into the night. Some left, some stayed, but all had been touched, all had been moved.

All had partaken in the Eds' magic elixir.

EPILOGUE.

Ed awoke safe in his bed, tucked in by his little sister. He had drank damn near two gallons of the stuff and never passed out, only going home when he got tired. He rolled over to find that May, still sleeping, lay wrapped in his arms, and he recalled dancing with her like they had at prom night. His initial desire was to disappear through his window and never be seen again, but he found a gentle beauty in her lying there, and instead sat still, watching and saying nothing.

Edd came to consciousness in a chilly beach-towel in Kevin's yard with a throbbing headache. He'd slept next to Nazz, and inched away silently as not to wake her. He had no idea what had gone on between them, but his clothes were no less filthy or marred then they had been at the start of the evening, so he figured he'd gotten out alright. Even so, he planned to visit the Emergency Room that afternoon, hoping to confirm he hadn't caught the syph, or worse. This was his first time in the sheets with anyone, and he sincerely hoped he hadn't caught something. Germs were a nasty thing.

Eddy found himself face down on a sidewalk with a lampshade on his head. He checked his watch, it was seven in the morning. A dew shone on the grass, and the sun cast long shadows over the roofs of suburbia. A chrome thing glinted in the bottom-right corner of his vision. He felt horrible, nauseous, a great pressure on his temples, barely enough strength to get up. Slowly but surely, he brought himself to his feet- unsteady, after a night of drinking he barely remembered. He blinked, and after a moment, realized that the shiny thing was the sun, glinting off the hood of that same blue Plymouth Fury that had chased them. It sat on the curb maybe two feet away from him, parked and deserted, and for a moment he pondered what it was doing there, still too tired to understand.

A force grabbed him from behind and wheeled him around. A tanned, middle-aged man in a t-shirt and old Wranglers with exceptionally rough hands gripped him by the shoulders, and shook him three times. Eddy fought to keep the puke from coming up, and felt it gag in his throat. His lethargic blood started to race.

"H-hey, what's-"

"Are you Eddy Scarsella?!" the man barked.

"I... "

"Are you Eddy Scarsella?!"

Eddy tried to look away, his heart thudding. Truth be told, this guy's voice was like broken glass on his frontal lobe. "Yeah, I-..."

"You gonna _pay_ 'fer what'chou did 'ta us!" The man kneed him, and he actually _did_ puke- all over the man's dirty Wranglers, too. "Aw, shit, lookit what'chou did!"

"Serves you right," he mumbled, "Sneakin' up on a guy like me?.. Dirty move, cop, dirty move!"

The man narrowed his eyes, refraining from hitting again so as not to make a bigger mess. "What th'hell're you talkin' about, boy?"

"You wanna… drag us t'jail, huh?" Eddy was feeling stronger now, and stuck out his fists. He was ready to be cuffed. "Well, read me my rights!... Tell me what I'm facin'!"

"I ain't no cop, boy," the man clarified, giving him another sock that sent him sprawling. Luckily, he fell in the grass, and his head didn't hit the concrete. "You giddup, an' you talk t'me like a man!"

Eddy tried his best to comply, but all he could get to were his knees.

"What the hell're you supposed t'be…?" He mustered a laugh, but it sounded more like a wheezing exhale, and he threw up again. The redneck took a step back, and all he sprayed on was the concrete.

A second shape appeared now, blurry at first but growing clearer. Short, round, hobbling. Wearing a flannel shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. Jeans so faded they could be white.

Emmet Zeats hit Eddy with a cane.

"Y-yeah, that's 'im, Burt... That's th'punk…"

The redneck crossed his arms, muttering in disgust. "He puked all over me, grampaw…"

Emmet found this funny, and gave a chuckle. "D'oh, suggit up. Ye'r washable." He squinted through his glasses- thick, thicker than Roy's tenfold- at the miserable pile of drunken merriment kneeling before him. "Y-you're… You're Eddy Scarsella, ain't'chou…?"

Eddy mustered a nod. "Uh-huh."

"Ye, I figured… Y'think you're smart, Eddy…? Runnin' from us all night…?"

It was all becoming very clear now. The Fury wasn't a cop car, it was an _ex_ -cop car. Something Sockhead had said registered with him now. _The one person we've been a thorn in the side of for years… Harassing, taking advantage of, looting repeatedly…_ Emmet and Burt Zeats had been their pursuers.

"N-no, sir…"

The bald curmudgeon hissed. "Yeah, I bet'chou thought you were!... Yer buddy losin' us in them tract houses, that was smart… But, we _knew_ you'd come'ome ee-ventually… I still got yer address fr'm when y'r no-good brother was on payroll wimme… Lazy bastard tried t'steal everything t'weren't nailed down… "

Eddy felt the need to reason with him, he had him by the short and friskies for sure. In this state, the younger one could kill him, just stomp his guts out in the middle of the street- Or, worse, they'd call the cops, and lock the three of them up for shoplifting, in addition to various ATF charges they'd place on Roy for his homemade brew.

"L-look, Mr. Zeats? There was this… _big_ party, and-"

"And y'needed beer?" Burt scoffed, pushing him back. Eddy fell on his back in the grass, both of them leering down at him.

"I ain't stupid," said Emmet, leaning heavily on his walking stick, "That's what all'a ya come rob me f'r. Beer, it's always beer! Y'all practically run on th'stuff! Didn't count'n y'r idiot buddy swipin' th'bakin' goods instead, eh?"

Eddy whimpered, covering his face. He tensed, waiting for an impact. "What're y'gonna do to me…?" And he cried, cried like a little girl in front of the older fellas. Burt looked away, so as not to witness this sappy excuse for a man.

"First've all, git up…" Emmet ordered.

Eddy obeyed, raising on woozy sea legs.

"Now, what'chou pulled'ere is serious stuff… I got a family member in th'hospital. Bubba needs stitches- a big chunk'a gravel got'im in'na forehead. I wonder how that happened?"

Eddy shuffled his feet.

"So, here's what'cher gonna do… I done wrote me a list'a th'damages 'fer the in-surance comp'ny, an' they'll cover it. But, you an' yer buddies are gonna cover Bubba's hospiddle stay, 'cause we ain't got good medical."

Eddy gave them a hard glare. "And if I don't?"

"And if you don't," replied Burt with a snarl, "We report all this t'th'Sheriff's Office. I bet you'd love t'hear from them, huh Scarsella?"

He'd heard awful things about those guys from his bro. They were the worst law enforcement to run into. They had dogs, big dogs, that they'd sic on you if you were too freaky. They'd beat you up, steal your stash and never report it. They'd been subject to six corruption probes by the state, and none of them found a thing.

"I.. I ain't got the money, though…"

"Then you'll work 'fer th'money," Emmet suggested, "You come in ev'ry month with a fixed amount 'til we all squar'd away. Let's say, five hunnert…?"

"F-five hundred?!"

Burt loomed, producing brass knuckles. "Or, maybe you'd like to see the inside'a Mainline Pen?"

Eddy was more afraid than he'd admit, but he'd be defiant to the end. He'd spit in their faces, pick a fight with him, struggle against the deputies as they dragged him away. But his slow, weary mind though not of himself. He thought of his friends.

What would become of Double D, already subject to so much controversy? What would become of Ed, so simple he'd hardly understood where he was? Why would they need to suffer for his mistake?"

"Alright," he conceded, "Alright, I give… I'll get you your money…"

"Good," grunted Burt, turning away and strolling to the car, "Y'damn well better."

"You jus' keep'n touch," Emmet added, "An' don't go back on our deal, or you'll be in d'jailhouse then!.. Oh, an' Eddy…?"

"What?"

"Say hi t'Terry 'fer me.."

The big doors slammed shut, the motor turned over, and the Plymouth looped around, heading away. Eddy began a stagger home, trying to regain a shred of dignity after being beaten by rednecks in the street while only wearing his skivvies, when a hulking out-of-towner in a purple jersey approached him.

"H-hey, man, are you Eddy Scarsella?"  
"Yeah…."

"I'm Wynn Dixon, Junior class president at Lemon Brook High?" He offered a jovial smile, but it faltered. Even he could see the shape this guy was in. "We played football t'gether in middle school… remember?"

The Lumpers. God, Eddy remembered that. The Lumpers made The Zeats family and the Sheriff's Department look like a game of minigolf. "Y-yeah," he muttered, I remember.."

Dixon pumped Eddy's hand, which jiggled limply. "Well, nice to see you again, man! I heard you and your buddies brought the moonshine?"

"Yeah, that was us…"

"Well, I've got this party next weekend, and I was wondering if you could get us some?"

"I dunno, man, I… got a… lotta homework…." Nevermind that school was out; even Eddy didn't understand at that point.

"Really…?" An obviously disheartened Dixon began to reach for his wallet, producing a fifty. I can pay ya, if y'like!"

Money, greenbacks, cheddar, cash! It rejuvenated Eddie Scarsella, electrified him! Well, at least it stimulated his putrid brain, pickled from all that white lightning, into semi-coherent thought!

"S-sure," he agreed, taking the fifty, "But, it's seventy a jug, an' you don't… discuss this on my home phone… Y-you call me, and.. We'll talk in person, capiche?"

Wynn thought it over, and nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, alright… Hey, you take care of yourself, okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Wynn gave a cackle of glee. " _Alright!_... Man, I'm tellin' _all_ my friends about you!"

And so, the baller stumbled off to find his car, while Eddy combed the bushes for his shirt and pants. This was all piecing together. A problem, a solution. But, it was dangerous. What if real police came after them? What if Roy didn't agree? What if there was a hitch? What if the money dried up, and he was forced to pick peaches for another summer?

He found his phone, lying in a vase on Kevin's front porch. It was half buried in the dirt and had ten percent battery left. Grasping, he held it in his hand, looking at the contacts. What great new paths had opened up for him and his friends!

And he began to type.

 **MEET ME MY HOUSE 2 HRS.**

 **BRING PARNELLI.**

 **BIG NEWS.**

THE END!

Author's note:

I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. This is the first fanfic I have completed in around six years now, and went through a seven-month hiatus. I picked it up on Christmas Eve 2018 and decided to write again, as this story seemed too cool to leave unfinished. In the past couple of days, I've written a few dozen pages, a monumental undertaking for me. I chalk it all down to self-discipline, as it was all about getting off my duff and actually starting. To begin was the tough part; to keep writing was easier and easier. I'm glad that you've all been so receptive to this fic, and I feel like my hard work is really paying off.

This fic is dedicated to F.N., for all his help in me becoming a better storyteller. Without you, I couldn't be as passionate about my craft as I am today. Thanks, man. Hope to see you soon!


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